


Remnant

by Rapidfyrez



Category: RWBY, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Fantasy, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapidfyrez/pseuds/Rapidfyrez
Summary: She was a Prodigy unlike any other, the top of her class, the best of the best. Now, she is but a remnant of her former self. Pyrrha Nikos, Huntress and friend, was thought dead. But she lives in a new strange world without Grimm, without Huntresses. She is lost and alone, save for one ally. Harry Dresden, Chicago PI and Professional Wizard, is more than happy to help Pyrrha find a way home. The rest of the world though, has other ideas...





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Cold. Why was it so cold? Summer had only just begun to come to a close, and fall in Vale was never particularly harsh. Yet this bitter, biting cold burned straight to her heart. Pyrrha Nikos wrapped her arms around her chest and shuddered. This frigid weather wasn’t right, nothing felt right.

There was a flash of light, and a clap of thunder. Pyrrha’s eyes snapped open and she gasped for air, arching her back in agony. That was no cold she felt, it was a pain in the center of her chest, one that was already rapidly fading in time with her heartbeat. Soon it was no more than a dull throbbing pain Pyrrha got her breathing under some measure of control, and slowly slid back down onto the ground.

Her hands trembled as she reached up to her chest where the pain was. The touch of her fingers felt no wounds though, only warm flesh beneath her hands. Pyrrha let out a shaky breath of relief. She hurt, but there was no visible injury she could find. A doctor would be better for finding any internal injuries.

She realized that for a doctor to help her though, she’d need to get moving. Pyrrha started to get her hands under her. The asphalt dug into the bare skin of her hands, but she pushed and started to get her legs under her. Light flashed in her eyes, pain shot up her leg, and Pyrrha fell onto her side, fire racing up her left leg.

Teeth clenched, she took a glance down at her leg, and quickly identified the problem. A hole the size of a golf ball had been punched clean through her lower calf. That would certainly explain the intense pain she was feeling.

It did not explain why she was completely naked.

The young woman immediately covered herself to preserve some measure of modesty, and tried to remember how she had wound up how she was. All her armor, her clothes, and her weapons were gone. Pyrrha was stark naked in the middle of… actually, she had no idea where she was.

A quick glance up showed tall buildings stretching up and up above her, into a night filled with dark clouds. A glance to her left showed a dirty brick wall, and a glance to her right showed the exit out of what must have been an alleyway, where the only source of light was available. A near empty dumpster and a handful of trash cans almost blocked the exit, but besides that, the alley was abandoned.

The young woman took a deep breath, “Okay Pyrrha, obviously you’re in a city, most likely Vale. D-don’t make any assumptions until you know otherwise.”

A cool breeze made her shiver again, and made her grateful she was alone. If her friends saw her as she was, Pyrrha didn’t think she’d ever live it down. Jaune’s reaction might make it worth it, but that was irrelevant at this point. Her first priority, she decided, was to get to the nearest hospital.

While Pyrrha’s aura might be preventing her wound from being life threatening, without proper medical treatment it could get infected, or leave her crippled. No waiting around for her, she was going to have to get out of here on her own. Easier said than done. Pyrrha looked at her injured leg again, and winced. It was a surprisingly neat wound, and seemed relatively clean. The skin around it had already begun to pucker around the edges, and the bleeding was surprisingly minimal. Slowly, she moved the leg, and while the pain spiked once more, it was bearable.

Resting her hand on the wall behind her, Pyrrha sucked in a breath, clenched her teeth tight, and mentally counted to three. On two, she quickly hauled herself up, and bit back a scream of agony. Stars flashed in her vision, her left leg quickly went limp, and she fell back to the earth. At the last moment, she managed to push herself back against the wall, and leaned limply against it, breathing hard.

Sweat coated her forehead, and her long red hair had quickly fallen into a dirty mess around her, matting against her back and arms. It was one of those times she wished she’d cut it shorter. In a combat situation, it was just a liability, and now it was a mess that served no purpose but to get in her way.

“Okay, okay,” Pyrrha sucked in a breath, “It hurts, but I-I can handle it. B-besides, it can’t get much worse than this…”

Naked in the middle of the city with a potentially crippling leg injury? It was rather hard to top that. Thunder boomed overhead, and rain began to fall, quickly soaking her in the downpour. Pyrrha leaned against the wall, and silently fumed. With a puff of anger, she flicked her hair out of her face and began to move forward, using the wall as her personal crutch.

For every step she took, electric pain shot up her leg, and made her bite back another scream. She may have been a champion fighter, but Pyrrha had never taken an injury this intense before. The trip from where she’d woken up to the nearest trash can, was one of the most agonizingly long moments in her short life. But she pressed on, and when she reached the steel cylinder, she collapsed against it with a hollow ‘twang!’ of impact.

Trembling, she struggled to push herself up, while the rain continued to pour. The ground was growing slick, and the blood of her wound had colored it a dark red. She was getting tired with every passing minute, but she pressed on anyway. When safety and medical attention were within reach, then she would rest.

A few more steps brought her to the dumpster, and she felt relieved. An old blue rain tarp, cracked and frayed from years under the elements, was draped over the far side of the dumpster. Pyrrha limped forward, pulled it free, and tied it around her chest into a makeshift dress. At least it would preserve her modesty, and provide a mild protection from the rain.

The rain, however, was the least of her problems. As Pyrrha started forward again, feeling a little more comfortable, and a little more confident, she heard a familiar noise. A deep growl rumbled down the alley, and sent a wave of goosebumps prickling her flesh. That was not the growl of an animal, but of an creature consumed with hatred and rage. This growl was the embodiment of that creature, for it was nothing but hate. No sense of life, meaning, or thought, just pure, raw hatred.

Pyrrha froze, and her heart began to beat faster, “A Grimm? In Vale?”

Such a notion was impossible, yet Pyrrha knew with one hundred percent certainty that she had heard the growl of a Grimm, a Beowolf to be specific. There was, of course, only one way to be sure. So Pyrrha turned around, slowly, to make sure.

Gleaming red eyes burned at the far end of the alleyway, locked onto Pyrrha. They narrowed when she saw them, and the wall suddenly moved. No, not the wall, merely the shadow that had been standing before it. The Grimm moved forward, into the light, and Pyrrha knew for certain that she was dealing with a Beowolf, one of the most common Grimm in existence.

It was bipedal, but obviously not human. Greasy black fur hung from its limbs, pressed flat by the rain. Bone white protrusions grew from its arms, legs, and back. Its face was a red lined skull, glittering under the little light that was cast on it. The beast was huge, larger than most car. Clearly it was an older Beowolf, which was why it hadn’t immediately attacked her. It had waited to see how much of a threat she would pose and came to the obvious conclusion that she wasn’t one.

Far as Pyrrha was concerned, it was right. In any other situation, she could handle it. But she had no weapons, her Aura was exhausted from keeping her leg together, and she barely had enough energy to walk down an alley, let alone use her Semblance to defend herself from it. There was only one option available to her.

Run.

Run as hard and fast she could.

There was no debate, Pyrrha turned and ran, or rather, hobbled, given the state of her leg. She limped out of the alley onto the sidewalk and saw the streets were surprisingly empty. Behind her, the Grimm howled and lunged, its powerful legs launching it right at her. It easily caught up to the crippled Huntress in one leap. Pyrrha’s honed instincts managed to save her from a rather messy end, but the Grimm’s arm still clipped her head. More flashes of pain, and she went down in a pile of limbs and rain tarp. The Grimm dug its claws into the asphalt and twisted around to face her. It let loose a furious snarl, peeling its lips back to expose unnaturally large and sharp fangs.

Pyrrha pushed herself up slowly, and blinked rain out of her eyes. She saw the Grimm crouching forward, saw its muscles rolling under its hide, and she knew she was done for. This was not how she had expected to die. A blaze of glory perhaps, a final stand, but not cold, wet, and afraid.

“Someone!” she screamed, a last ditch effort, “Help! Please! Anyone!?”

No response, but she had expected that. The Grimm tensed, Pyrrha closed her eyes tight, and…

There was a squeal of rubber and shrieking steel. The Grimm howled in surprise, and the ground shook a moment later. Something had hit the oversized creature and sent it flying. She opened her eyes and saw that, indeed, that was what happened. A small, bulbous blue car was parked in front of her, its hood caved in from where the Grimm had hit, and the windshield had cracked.

Across the street, the Grimm pulled itself back to its feet, and while one of its arms was bent at an unnatural angle, it was otherwise unharmed. It turned to the car, and let loose a roar that shook the street.

The car door flew open, and a man in a large leather duster stepped out. He was very tall, and he held a large wooden staff in his right hand. Runes smoldered on its surface, and though Pyrrha couldn’t make out his features very well, she could tell that he was angry at the Grimm. Frankly, she could agree with him on that front.

The man slammed his staff into the ground, and Pyrrha felt power flow through the ground. Whoever this guy was, he had plenty of power to spare. He retrieved a small wooden rod from his coat and pointed it at the Grimm.

“So, you like chasing teenagers, do ya Scooby?” he demanded.

The Grimm howled in response, and charged forward. Pyrrha opened her mouth to warn the man, but quickly realized it was a pointless gesture. With a flick of his wrist, a field of shimmering blue energy stopped the Grimm in its tracks. The force of its impact sent ripples of blue energy over this strange barrier, but it remained firm. In fact, all that energy was quickly reflected back at the Grimm, and it bounced harmlessly off it.

Pyrrha’s jaw remained hanging as she watched the man step forward and raise his rod again, “Right, that’s what I thought.”

She felt the air tingle, something powerful rolling through the air into the man. He took a deep breath, and the power vanished from Pyrrha's senses...

‘Fuego!’

A stream of fire no thicker than her fist lanced forward, hissing under the rain. It cut through the air, and the Grimm, with surgical precision. The beast had time to let out a strangled yelp, then fell to the ground in two pieces. Inky smoke immediately began to rise from its corpse.

“…Oh my….” Was all that Pyrrha could say. Obviously she was in the presence of a graduated Hunter, who could use his Aura so effectively that a Grimm was of no threat to him, and without even moving from his spot too. Her luck looked to be turning around.

The man stared at the corpse for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then turned to the injured young woman lying at his feet. A look of concern passed over his face, and he rushed to her side. He was smart enough to keep his hands off her, lest he cause more injury by moving her out of place, and asked, “You okay kid?”

Pyrrha swallowed and nodded, “Y-yes, thank you, sir.”

The man looked relieved, and chuckled, “You’re welcome, but please don’t call me sir, I’m not that old yet. Just call me Dresden. Harry Dresden.”


	2. Chapter 1

Pyrrha’s rescue was a blur of pictures and moments in time. A combination of stress, exhaustion, and blood loss had lulled her into a delirious state of confusion. She vaguely remembered being helped into the man’s car, but that was all she could confidently recall. Everything else was a dreamy blur of colors and sounds.

The next thing she did remember was waking up in a bed. It was a full king size bed, soft to the touch with light cotton sheets. The room itself was rather cramped, but made efficient use of the space it had. It was furnished with secondhand furniture, and half a dozen throw rugs.The only light came from a fireplace nestled in the wall that cast soft shadows every which way.. A handful of easy chairs and a comfortable-looking couch were well spaced through the room. A few scuffed-up old bookshelves, cheap and sturdy, lined the walls, and contained what looked to be a sizable personal library. A counter was situated across from the bed, and there was a small fridge and electric griddle built into it

All in all, it was a very comfy looking room, and Pyrrha felt her mind relax. This certainly didn’t seem like some sort of Grimm nest, or an abandoned part of the city. It was just a normal room, in a normal house. She could live with that. The real question was where had the owner disappeared to?

The man who rescued her was nowhere to be seen. What was his name? Barry? Larry? Kerry? No, it was Harry. Harry Dresden. Yeah, that was it.

Pyrrha pushed herself up and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. She must’ve been asleep for some time, she was stiff and sore. Or perhaps it was just a matter of exhaustion. Something, somehow, had drained her Aura and left her nearly dead. Even with her leg injury, she could’ve handled a Grimm, or at least given a better showing than she had. In hindsight, she supposed  she was far more exhausted than she had first guessed.

That had changed now, among other things. A quick glance down showed that, yes, Pyrrha had clothes again. Her mysterious rescuer must have given them to her in her sleep. She wore a long black shirt and a short pair of red pajama shorts. On her shirt across the chest was a monochrome image of several multi sided dice and  written in block print, “COME TO THE DORK SIDE. DO NOT MAKE ME DESTROY YOU.”

She picked at the shirt, and smiled faintly. This seemed like something Jaune might have worn before he came to Beacon Academy. Her teammate, and very close friend, the young man wasn’t what she would call a warrior, or particularly coordinated. Or even mildly competent - well, at least according to others, and sometimes, she had to agree with them. But he was honest about himself, and if anyone was asked to describe him with one word, dork might be the word they chose. Pyrrha preferred the term friend, or caring, but that was just her; and even she couldn’t deny that Jaune could indeed be a complete dork. That was one reason she…

Pyrrha shook her head, this wasn’t the time to reminisce. She needed answers, and she needed them sooner rather than later. Finding her savior would be the quickest way to achieve that goal, and so she threw off the sheets, and flexed her leg. A dull pain rolled up the limb, but it was a far cry from the lightning strike of agony she had felt earlier. A quick examination of her calf showed that, in her sleep, someone had tended to her wounds. A series of gauze bandages were wrapped tightly around her calf, and stained rusty red. Flexing her leg revealed what she had suspected. With time to relax and recover from her trauma, Pyrrha’s Aura had replenished, taking care of her wound.

A quick removal of her bandages showed that, yes, the wound had been stitched shut. Where the stitch marks were supposed to be, there was only a thick mass of scar tissue. In a few more days, it would probably fade into another beauty mark. She had a few on various parts of her body, a lifetime of fighting and an exceptionally strong Aura meant that she very rarely accumulated scars.

Gingerly testing the limb, Pyrrha smiled and carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. More dull pain, and the concrete floor on her bare feet made her shiver, but it was hardly crippling. She could walk now, which meant she could finally get some damn answers.

“Watch your language Pyrrha,” she murmured to herself, but remained smiling. No matter the situation, manners were always important.

Speaking of, it was time she found and thanked Mr. Dresden for rescuing her. A short limp across the bedroom brought her to the door, and Pyrrha eased it open. She was surprised to find a… well,  a cavern of an apartment.

The living room reminded her of a training dojo in sheer size, with equally high ceilings. There was a small bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the open space. There was a fireplace with what looked like a living room set around it in one corner of the room, and a second section of comfy chairs and a desk tucked into a nook lined with built-in bookshelves. There was a weight set, too, along with an elliptical machine, both looked expensive. The floors were hardwood, covered by carpets in places. A few more doors led off from this main room.

“Wow,” Pyrrha murmured. While certainly not the most impressive building she’d seen, for what she had to guess was one man, it was far more than she thought anyone would need. The small guest room she’d been staying in was minuscule compared to the apartment itself.

The owner, her rescuer, was sitting by the lit fireplace, with another man. He was significantly shorter than Harry, with sharp high features, and wiry black hair that seemed to stick up in whatever direction it felt like. He had a scrawny build, and was wearing blue hospital scrubs. A large medical bag rested next to him, and between the short man and Harry, was a small table where a… a human skull was placed between them.

What in the world?

“I don’t get it Harry,” the shorter man said. His voice had a nasally edge to it, but it was more charming than irritating. He wrung his hands together nervously as he spoke. “We don’t know anything about this girl, you should have taken her to an actual hospital.”

Harry was leaned forward and wore a look of patience that suggested he had this conversation often and with repeated results. Now that she saw him  in better light, Pyrrha could make out some of his features. He had a strong jawline, and a clean shaven face. His hair was cut short and by the looks of it, he did it himself rather often. A scar crossed over one of his eyes, and the slight angle of his nose suggested that it had been broken at one time. He was also a big, big man. Nearly seven feet tall, and though he wasn’t particularly bulky, his lean build suggested plenty of mass on his oversized frame.

Harry rubbed his face once and sighed, “Under any other circumstance, I’d have agreed, Butters. Random girl runs into the street wearing nothing but a rain tarp and with a bloody hole in her leg? Strange. But you saw that thing that came out after her. Whoever she is, she’s obviously got someone or something pissed at her. I’d rather keep her somewhere safe until I can get some answers, and I don’t mix well with hospitals”

The man, Butters, shook his head, “You should consider yourself lucky I was with you at the time. You might know some basic medical tricks, but an injury like that could’ve killed her without proper treatment. Me being along for the ride was lucky coincidence.”

“Yeah, coincidence,” Harry chuckled, “Is that what you’re still calling it, Jedi of the Cross?”

Butters ducked his head sheepishly,“I’ve told you before, I don’t think every event in my life is dictated by that, Harry. Sometimes a coincidence is just that, a coincidence.”

Harry folded his arms, and gave Butters a wry smile, “Butters, Butters, Butters. I’ve seen Knights in action. Coincidence is their super power.”

    “If you say so,” Butters sighed.  He looked away from Harry, and frowned. His big eyes widened when he saw Pyrrha standing by the door. She’d eased it shut behind her while they spoke and smiled awkwardly at him.

Harry caught onto the pause and followed Butters gaze. He blinked in surprise when he saw Pyrrha. She gave a nervous little wave, “Hello again.”

“And so the mystery girl awakens,” Harry murmured, sounding amused.

Butters was on his feet within seconds, “Miss, I know you must be confused right now, but you shouldn’t be walking on that injured leg.”

Pyrrha blinked and looked down at her leg, “Oh, my leg. Right. It’s fine now, I take it you’re the one who patched me up?”

Harry and Butters exchanged a look. Butters began to stutter, “Y-you’re… But… I’m sorry, just...sit down here, , please.”

Pyrrha did as she was asked, while Butters scurried over to her. Behind him, Harry rose and casually strolled closer. His big leather duster was gone now, and he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which read ‘NERD? I PREFER THE TERM INTELLECTUAL BADASS’ in all bold white. That confirmed her suspicions on where she got her new shirt from, and explained why it was practically a mini-dress on her.

Despite his surprising height and size, Harry moved with the care and restraint of someone who was afraid that if he moved too fast, he’d break something or someone. A feeling Pyrrha could relate to, with her own six-foot height pushing her far above most girls and plenty of guys.

“Harry, I need a chair!” Butters snapped when he reached Pyrrha.

The tall man turned without missing a beat, “On it,” he drawled, and retrieved two chairs from the mini-bar, hefting them with ease.

Pyrrha barely had time to try and protest before she suddenly found herself sitting down with her formerly injured leg propped up on one of the chairs. The two men had far more experience with tending to injured people that didn’t want to be tended to than was normal for most. Pyrrha blew a few loose strands of hair out eye and folded her hands on her lap while Butters poked at her scar and gaped.

“That’s…. it…. How is that even possible?” his voice shook.

Pyrrha raised a brow in mild surprise. Surely a doctor would know about the Aura abilities of a Huntress. Then again, based on what Harry said, it was entirely possible that Butters wasn’t actually a qualified doctor. This whole situation just kept getting stranger and stranger.

Butters looked from her leg, to Pyrrha, to Harry, to her leg and back again. He did this three times before promptly standing up, “I’ll be right back with my medical kit, do not move. You’ve got stitches I’ll need to remove and it won’t be easy with all that scar tissue there.”

“Of course Doctor.” Pyrrha said, smiling. Trying to operate on her with her Aura active wouldn’t work out well under normal circumstances if she were younger, or Jaune, but Pyrrha had enough control over her abilities that she could relax the mystical shield in the scar’s area.

Butters shook his head and walked off, leaving her alone with Harry, who was sitting on another stool he’d dragged over. She glanced at him and saw him resting his hands on his thighs and watching her intently. He wasn’t leering at her, more… analyzing her, trying to get a read on her. It was an expression she often saw during combat, but his was almost… predatory. Pyrrha felt her skin crawl, and immediately relaxed her posture to appear less threatening. She also made sure not to let Harry completely leave her sight.

Harry caught the gesture, and immediately stopped. He awkwardly clapped his hands together, and said, “I... don’t think we ever got your name, miss.”

Pyrrha glanced back at him, and forced a smile, “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Pyrrha Nikos... and thank you for saving me Mr. Dresden.”

Harry looked at the returning Butters, and smirked, “Hear that? _Mister_ Dresden. That’s what we call respect, Butters.”

The short man grunted with disinterest, “Hmph, yeah, respect.”

“You’re just jealous,” Harry huffed, and turned back to Pyrrha, “So, Ms. Nikos, care to explain what in the hell we literally ran into last night? Got a big old dent in my new car and don’t even know what the beastie was that did it.”

Butters grumbled something under his breath, and popped open his medical bag. Harry looked indignant, “Hey, don’t diss the Blue Beetle Mk. II. It’s new to me.”

Butters raised his hands defensively for a moment, then started pulling medical equipment from his bag. Deciding between watching Butters cut open the scar on her leg and catching that predatory gaze again, Pyrrha went with the lesser of two evils, and looked at Harry again. She immediately noted that he was taking great pains to avoid eye contact with her and Butters.

If the look he had given her wasn’t unnerving enough, what really rubbed Pyrrha the wrong way was the fact that he didn’t recognize the Grimm. Everyone knew of the Grimm, and Hunters knew what the Grimm were. Creatures of darkness that had existed since long before humans walked the surface of Remnant, that fed off the dark and negative emotions of humans. They didn’t eat, they didn’t sleep, they only existed to destroy. Everyone knew what Grimm were, even if they’d never personally seen one. Which begged the question of how her rescuers didn’t know what it was, or why her leg was healed.

Her lips curved into a frown, and Pyrrha chose her next words carefully, “I… can tell you, Mr. Dresden. But only if you answer a question for me first.”

“Deal,” Harry spread his hands, “Ask away.”

Pyrrha nodded and pursed her lips, “Where… am I?”

“Chicago, Illinois,” said Butters, without looking up from his work.

Harry nodded in confirmation, “That’s the place.”

“Chi-cago…” Pyrrha tested the word, frowning, “I can’t say I’ve heard of this city. Or the Kingdom it’s in either. I thought there were only four.”

“Um…” Pyrrha looked at Butters. He had stopped working to stare at her.

“What?”

The little man blinked once, then looked at Harry. Pyrrha watching them both. Mild annoyance flashed across her face, but she remained patient. Obviously there was more to this situation than she initially thought.

Harry sighed, “Right, and this brings us back to the root of confusion. Why don’t you tell us where you’re from, Pyrrha? If you can tell us the last thing you remember as well, that would help.”

Pyrrha nodded, that was a simple, reasonable request, “Okay. Well, I was born and raised in the Kingdom of Mistral, one of the four Kingdoms. The others are Vale, Vacuo, and Atlas. I trained at the Sanctum Combat School before graduating and transferring to Beacon Academy in Vale. Last I remember, I was nearing the end of my first year there, and was participating in the 40th Vytal Festival with the rest of my team. I think the most recent memory from that I have is being called to Headmaster Ozpin’s office. After that, I remember waking up in that alley, and you saving me from the Grimm.”

Silence reigned. Both Butters and Harry stared silently at Pyrrha, the former with wide eyes. She fidgeted in place, but remained still otherwise. They wanted answers, and she had given them like they had asked.

Butters coughed and looked at Harry, opening his mouth. Harry silence him with a raised hand, “Yeah, I know. But if she were actually crazy, I don’t think we’d be having a civil conversation with her at all.

He looked at Pyrrha, “That said, your explanation just raises more questions. That thing chasing you, what did you say it was called?”

“A Grimm,” she answered, “A Beowolf to be more specific. They’re fairly common in the forests around Vale.”

“Right, Beowolf” Harry muttered, suppressing a snicker, “And what exactly _is_ a Grimm?”

Pyrrha blinked. Sure, she knew now that her personal knowledge  was vastly different from what her rescuers knew, but it was still a surprising question. How could anyone, even someone who’d never heard of the Kingdoms, not know what a Grimm was? That would be like not knowing what air was, or water.

“You… really don’t know?” Pyrrha asked.

Harry shrugged, “Let’s say I know absolutely nothing about Grimm. How would you explain them to me?”

“Hold on,” Butters interrupted, focused back on his work. “This might sting a little…”

A sharp pain shot through her calf for a brief moment, then dulled again. Pyrrha winced, but besides that, it was hardly that bad. She’d had worse, anyway. “Continue,” Butters waved, setting aside a bit of bloodied stitching.

“Right…” Pyrrha sighed and thought on the best way to explain the Grimm. It wasn’t exactly hard.

“The Grimm are…monsters,” she started. “No one is sure where they came from, or what exactly it is they want. All that we do know is that they have a burning hatred for humanity, and are drawn to negative emotions. They can come in many shapes and sizes, and in endless numbers. It's only because of people like me and you that humans haven’t been wiped out.”

Harry raised a brow, “Like us?”

Pyrrha felt a twinge of pride, “Hunters and Huntresses. We are warriors trained by the Academies to neutralize any Grimm threats to the Four Kingdoms. We have a powerful Aura and manifest it through our Semblance, granting us powers and abilities that put us on even footing with them. We have protected the Four Kingdoms for centuries”

Slowly, Harry leaned back, emitting a low whistle, “That’s quite the boast kid. An army of super soldiers fighting off hordes of emotion-eating monsters? Sounds like a bad fantasy novel.”

Pyrrha smiled sheepishly, “I’ll admit, I’ve thought it ridiculous too, but it is the world we live in. Regardless of how silly it might sound, I still stand with others like me as a bastion against any threats against human-”

A sharp stab of pain in her leg made her jump, “Eep!”

“Sorry!” Butters apologized.

Pyrrha forced another smile, “It’s…fine,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ignoring the exchange, Harry scratched at his scar, “This is all very interesting, Miss Nikos, but… Well I’m not sure if I can believe it. You might, but..”

Her smile twisted into a frown, “Mr. Dresden, I’m not crazy, if that is what you think. My memories are my own, this I know for a fact.”

“I don’t doubt that you believe that,” Harry said softly, “But there isn’t really a way to confirm it.”

Butters cleared his throat. Both of them looked to the short doctor. “Actually, Harry, there’s a few options you’re forgetting about

Harry sighed, “There’s a few, yeah.” and began counting off his fingers, “We already know she seems to have some kind of Talent. When we moved her into the car, I could feel it on contact. This might be that Aura you’re talking about, or it might be something entirely different. You could just be absolutely bonkers, always a possibility with practitioners.”

Pyrrha folded her arms, and tried to keep her irritation in check, “Mr. Dresden, your concern is of course commendable. But I will also remind you that I was attacked by a Grimm before your very eyes.”

“Could have been a Demon,” Harry replied casually, “Or an Outsider. Maybe you’re a young wizard that got involved in something way out of hand and it drove you mad. No way to be absolutely sure.”

Butters spoke up again, “What about a Soulgaze? Isn’t that kinda the Wizards be-all-end-all solution?”

Harry scowled, “I can’t just go throwing it around willy-nilly, Butters. Besides, that stuff never fades. If I use it on her and she is crazy, then I’m stuck with that for life, not to mention what she Sees of me might not really be kind to her.”

“You’re saying one crazy girl is worse than the Skinwalker?” Butters asked.

That made Harry flinch, like he’d tasted something spectacularly sour. He drummed his fingers on his legs, “Well...no, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

“Excuse me,” Pyrrha interrupted, keeping her tone firm. She appreciated their help, but she was growing impatient. Harry and Butters looked back to her.

“What is this ‘Soulgaze’ you’re talking about?”

Harry sighed, again, and covered his face, “It will let me see your soul, basically. I’ll be able to see how the event of your world have shaped you, get a glimpse of what you could be, or whether you’re broken and torn inside.”

“So why not use it then?” Pyrrha asked.

“Because the memory never fades, like I just said. If you aren’t stable, under someone’s influence, or just aren’t strong enough, the experience may be more than your mind can take before...shutting down.”

Pyrrha tried and failed to scowl. That was a surprisingly good reason for his reluctance. But on the other hand,  “Is there any other way you can think of to prove I’m telling the truth? I have no identification on me, I have nothing from my home to prove it to you. Either you accept me at my word, Mr. Dresden, or we do something about this.”

Harry hung his head, “Yeah, I know. It’s not just that though kid. If we do this, then you’ll see my soul too. And the memory will never fade, ever.”

The tone of guilt in his voice made Pyrrha hesitate. This was more than just concern for himself, it was shame that he would hurt her in the process as well. She unfolded her arms, and said, “Is there any other option than? Any at all?”

“None that are immediately available,” Harry admitted, “The Sight wouldn’t show me if you were trustworthy, just your ‘true form’. I don’t have to like it, but Butters is right, the Soulgaze is our best bet.”

Pyrrha nodded, understanding, “Then, I think we should do it. You seem like a decent man, Mr. Dresden. You saved me at the risk of hurting yourself. Someone truly despicable wouldn’t have looked twice.”

Harry rubbed at his face, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Then he clapped his hands together, “Right, then let’s get this started.

“Okay,” Pyrrha agreed, “How do we do this?”

Harry adjusted his chair, and leaned forward a little, “Simple, just look into my eyes for a few seconds. The rest will come naturally.”

Pyrrha took a breath, “Okay then,” and did as he said.

Harry had deep brown eyes, and they were intense. While Harry was probably in his late thirties, maybe his forties, his eyes were far older. He had the eyes of someone far older than he was. It was tragic and-

***

Suddenly, Pyrrha was no longer sitting in the apartment. She stood at a frozen mountain pass, colossal mountains rising to either side of her and converging into a tiny pass just wide enough for a two people to walk through shoulder to shoulder. It was filled with a towering presence that filled most of that space. It took Pyrrha a moment to recognize the man as Harry.

He stood at this pass, feet dug into the ground, his staff clenched tightly in one hand, a sword in the other. Both were covered in a thousand cuts and nicks, their edges tinted white from frost. Heavy ragged brown robes fell from his shoulders, and beneath them she could see the edges of plate mail. It took was dented and damaged, hoarfrost creeping over it. Dried blood marked numerous places where the armor had failed, but Harry still stood defiant. His face looked similar to what she was getting familiar with, but covered in far more scars and fresh cuts.

What was most impressive about the entire setting was how he shouldered them. Most would collapse under the weight of that armor, those injuries, or the cold that was increasing by the second. But Harry seemed oblivious to his injuries, and kept a steady eye on the land spread before him.

The reason lay behind him.

A large natural bowl formed behind him, and inside that bowl was a city. Pyrrha didn’t recognize the landmarks, or buildings, but she knew a city when she saw one. Towering skyscrapers nearly as tall as the mountains that surrounded them, grand roads that weaved between buildings and millions of people going about their day. Scattered throughout this city stood statues, larger than any building.

Each was carved into the likeness of a different person. Some were tall and imposing men, others were smaller but equally determined women. Smaller child-like statues were gathered around a small suburban house, protected by two larger statues of a man and women. The female statue was marred with dozens of small cracks and chips. The male statue was covered in pits and cracks, a chunk of its chest missing and one of its legs broken. Several other statues were like that, pocked and pitted with minor or major damage. Several lay in pieces on the ground, time and weather having torn them down.

It was hardly the most subtle symbolism, and Pyrrha picked it up simply enough. Harry was a defender, a protector of what he saw as **_his_ ** city. The statues were friends and family that he was fighting desperately to protect no matter the personal cost to himself. As long as they stood, he would stand. But she knew that his stalwart defense hadn’t been enough. There were far too many broken and damaged statues. All his efforts still weren’t enough to protect those important to him.

The wind picked up suddenly, and Pyrrha’s view went back to Dresden. He was gripping his staff hard, and glaring at the empty land that surrounded his city. Pyrrha peered past him, and saw what had caught his attention. The sky was growing cold and dark, thick thunder headed clouds rolled across the sky. Snow was beginning to fall, and the air took on a harsh biting edge.

Something shook the ground, a thousand somethings. Pyrrha saw them rapidly approaching the mountain pass, and their shapes became visible very quickly. At the forefront of what was a horde of horrors, came large batlike creatures, running on four legs. Their skin was a greasy black spotted with bits of pink flesh. They had long lolling tongues and huge black eyes. They hissed and they snarled in rage at Dresden.

The man calmly raised his staff at the monsters, boomed a set of words that Pyrrha could not understand.

He didn’t raise his voice, but the words rung through the air, resonating into Pyrrha’s very being. Fire blossomed before him, and those monsters erupted into flame, filling the sky with more inky blackness. The fire eagerly consumed them, reducing the monsters into nothing more than grease spots on the floor.

All it took was a cool breeze to blow the flames away though. Yet more monsters came barreling through what was left of the first line. Huge oversized beasts, smaller human shaped creatures of shadow, others of incalculable beauty, and some with forms that were far too strange and alien. That freezing air blew ahead of them, kicking up dirt and snow, pushing it all towards Harry.

He raised his sword, and a translucent dome of blue energy rose to stop the onslaught of icy wind and dirt. It harmlessly rattled off it in a series of tiny bright lights that exploded at the touch impact. The monsters drew closer, and Harry let his shield drop to raise his staff at them. The runes along its edge ignited in fire, and his eyes blazed with fury.

Once more he spoke, his voice very angry. Once more, she couldn’t understand what he said. But she felt the power behind his words.

Pure force lashed out from the end of his staff, tinted a silvery white. It rolled across the field towards the nearest monsters, knocking them aside with contemptuous ease. The rest closed in on him, leaped to rip him apart, and-

***

The Soulgaze ended, and Pyrrha was suddenly back in the apartment. She jerked back in surprise and blinked a few times, taking fast breathes to calm herself.  Harry leaned back with his eyes clenched and rubbed at his face while Butters looked between the two. He raised his brows inquisitively at the both of them.

“That…” Pyrrha shook her head, “What was that?”

“Soulgaze,” Harry mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It’s always intense. I warned you.”

Intense was an understatement in Pyrrha’s opinion. What she saw had been so very real. Even now, back in the apartment, she could feel the cool air biting at her very core. And that battle at the end, she thought for sure she was going to get dragged into it. But no, it was just a… a vision? Yes, that made sense. It would explain why the memory was still so vivid. Pyrrha had a feeling she’d never really forget what she’d seen.

Yet it certainly did tell her something important too. Harry was a good, if stubborn man. She could trust him to the end of the world and never worry about him betraying her or turning his back on her. He was an ally, and knowing that settled her nerves, that she hadn’t even realized were so high-strung.

Butters impatiently tapped something on the table supporting Pyrrha’s leg and gave Harry a look, “So, what did you see? Is she…you know? Sane?”

Harry released his nose and nodded, “Yeah, she’s legit. We can trust her.” He looked back at Pyrrha, “I don’t exactly know how you got here Pyrrha, or why, I promise I’ll help you try and get you home.”

“Whoa wait,” Butters interrupted before Pyrrha could say a word. She folded her arms and raised a brow at him. Butters didn’t see the gesture, “So you’re saying that she’s…. what? From another world?”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe? If her story is true, it’s the only real explanation.”

Once those words sank in, Butters slowly fell back in his chair in a daze, “I… I don’t believe it. You’re saying that… Multiverse Theory is real?”

“Maybe,” said Harry, “There’s no real way to know for sure, unless we learn more about the situation. Which I intend to do.”

“How will you do that?” Pyrrha finally asked while Butters was busy muttering about impossibilities, science, and crazy wizards. Far as she knew, there wasn’t any real evidence of how she’d arrived in this… Chicago. What did Harry hope to find?

He flashed her a smile, “I’m a Private Investigator Pyrrha. Unravelling mysteries is what I do. And if I’m going to figure out why you’re here, I’ll need to investigate the scene of the crime.”

Pyrrha stood up, ignoring Butters’ protest, and smiled, “Then I would like to come along, Mr. Dresden, to see if I can help.”

His smile faded a little, “I’m… not sure if that’s a great idea. You really should rest…”

“Yes, but I know more about Grimm than you do. If there was one, there’s likely to be more. I’m sorry Mr. Dresden, but I would really appreciate being able to help.”

Pyrrha was a tall girl, but Harry was still a head higher than her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, and with the Soulgaze done, Harry didn’t avert them. Instead, he stared at her for a minute, then let out an irritated sigh.

“Fine, fine,” he flung a hand in the air, “You can tag along kiddo, as long as you don’t get in my way. But we need to do something first.”

“What’s that?” Pyrrha asked.

He pointed at her short shorts, “We need to get you some pants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A simple proper start. I've made a few changes to this chapter already. lemme know what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 2

Butters finished Pyrrha’s check-up and departed shortly after they had decided on their next move. The short man deemed Pyrrha’s leg healed, if weak from the injury, and left a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers with Harry in case Pyrrha’s leg started acting up, or something else happened. He also gave Harry a stern reminder not to let her overstress it. Even if it was “only” scar damage, there had been plenty of muscle damage, and it could take some time to completely recover.

“Thank you Doctor,” Pyrrha said, giving the most patient smile she could. “I will be as careful as I can.”

Butters grunted, “Hmph, make sure you are. I’ve got enough trouble with Harry tearing himself up all the time, I’d rather not add you to the list of unofficial patients.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I think she’s got it Butters.”

The little man opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a resigned sigh and began packing up his medical equipment, “Right, right. I just worry. Good luck, Ms. Nikos.”

He zipped the bag shut, swung it over his shoulder, and gave them both a level nod. Then he left, taking that weird skull with him. Pyrrha made a mental note to ask Harry what the deal was behind that later. There were, however, other items higher on her priority list for the moment.

“So, you hungry, kid?” Harry asked.

That would be one of them.

Pyrrha opened her mouth, and her stomach answered for her. A warbling groan from her midsection that managed to reverberate across the apartment’s admittedly cavernous walls. She flushed red and nodded, “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

Harry shrugged and meandered to the kitchen bar, “I’m no chef, but I do have food. Why don’t you make yourself at home while I scramble something together? Until we figure out a way to get you home, my apartment is open to you.”

Her smile returned, “I don’t think I can thank you enough Mr. Dresden. You really are too kind.”

That got her a grunt of reply from Harry. “Yeah, that’s me, picture of kindness. Just leave the desk and the bookcase alone. Delicate items, I’d rather you not mess with them.”

Pyrrha glanced at the desk nestled into the wall. Now that she had a full view of it, she realized that it wasn’t as neat and orderly as she thought. The books on the shelves above were neatly stacked, but not in any particular order. Bottles, boxes, and baubles of varying shapes and sizes were stacked around the desk on small plastic shelves, ordered according to a chaotic system she could not begin to comprehend. Several notebooks lay open on the desk and a carved wooden skull was placed in the center of it all, flanked by two little white roses, just starting to wilt.

“Hmm,” Pyrrha hummed, “That’s your equipment, right? You’re the equivalent of a Hunter?”

Harry chuckled, “Well, close enough, if you want to use that analogy. I’m a Private Investigator, who happens to also be an officialWizard of the White Council.” Something on the makeshift stove sizzled and popped. The smell of eggs followed a moment later, and Pyrrha’s stomach rumbled again.

She ignored it, and focused on Harry, “Wait, a Wizard? As in, a magician, like the ones in fairy tales?”

Harry snapped his fingers, “Bingo!” A tiny flame lit up on the end of his finger without burning it. He smirked, then extinguished the flame with a gesture.

When he looked back up, he jumped back in surprise. Pyrrha was sitting at the bar, a small but eager smile on her face, and a fresh notebook in her hands. Harry looked from her to the middle of the living room where she’d been standing. He’d looked away for maybe half a second! Pyrrha just smiled her polite smile at him, seemingly oblivious to his confusion.

“…Where’d you get the notebook?” Harry finally asked.

She glanced at the pages, “I borrowed it from your desk, seeing as you had plenty of extras. I’m sorry, was that rude?”

It wasn’t everyday someone took such an interest in magic. The last person Harry could honestly think of that had been this eager was his former apprentice, Molly. But those days had long since passed.

“I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to tell you kiddo.” He finally admitted. “I know you have some ability, but it doesn’t feel like the Gift. Whatever I tell you, it’d just be trivia.”

Pyrrha quirked her lips, “I think I’d disagree on that. If what you’re saying is true and magic is real here, then wouldn’t it be better for me to understand it so I can be prepared for it in case we run into something nasty?”

He gave her a cautious glance, “What makes you think we would?”

“Past experience,” Pyrrha shrugged.

Harry grunted and scratched the back of his head, “Right, glass house and throwing rocks I suppose. But I can’t and won’t tell you everything. The White Council doesn’t exactly like big magical secrets being spread around to the unsuspecting mortal masses, and I don’t have what most people would call a ‘healthy’ or ‘safe’ relationship with the Council right now either.”

“Then why don’t you keep it simple, focus on how to protect myself?” she suggested.

The eggs sizzled on the pan, and Harry raised one brow at her. Pyrrha politely smiled at him in response. “Uh huh,” he finally said. “Pyrrha, I get your curiosity, trust me it’s the not the first time I’ve dealt with it. But right now the priority is figuring out why and how you got here.”

Her smile faded a little as Harry spoke, “So, I’ll ask some questions first, okay? Once I think I have a decent picture of the situation, I’ll tell you all you want to know. Within reason.”

The faint slump of the girl’s shoulders was obvious to Harry, but Pyrrha tried to hide it anyway, “Alright. I suppose you do have a point.”

Personally, she’d rather have something to take her mind off the harsh truth; that she was a long way from home, in a world completely unlike her own, with no idea how or why she was there or, more importantly, how to get back. It was a problem she had never had considered before, and a small part of her didn’t want to deal with it.

Harry did make a good point though, they needed to find out why she was there, even if the answer wouldn’t necessarily be to her liking. Just because she didn’t want to do something, didn’t mean she could deny the responsibility. As a Huntress it was her duty to put the health and well-being of others above her own, and anything less was inexcusable.

 _‘Just answer his questions,’_ she thought, _‘Then you can move on. Bite the bullet, Pyrrha.’_

She took a deep breath and sighed, “So, what do you want to know?”

Harry kept cooking as promised, but his questions came out short, precise, and quick,  obviously he had a lot of experience with this kind of thing. “Let’s start with the basics. Last thing you remember before you woke up in that alley. Be as specific as you can on the details, anything you remember could help.”

“Didn’t I answer that question already?” she asked dryly.

The look she got made her do a 180 on that stance, and she went ramrod stiff, “Right, sorry!”

All she got was a sigh in response, which she took as the go-ahead to tell him what she remembered. Pyrrha thought back to the last thing she could remember before she woke in that alley. Details were very important like Harry said, so she focused on that.

“Well, as I said, the very last thing I remember is being called up to Headmaster Ozpin’s office. Before that, my team and I were participating in the Vytal Festival as part of the tournament. Its bi-annual, and we had just finished our first match. Afterwards, we went out celebrating before I received a message on my Scroll that the Headmaster wanted to see me. Everything after is a blur.”

Harry frowned, “Your... Scroll?”

“Portable communication device,” Pyrrha explained, “Do you not have those here?”

“We do,” Harry said, “Though people call them cell phones. I think. Not sure, I don’t own one. Is that all you remember? What about the team you faced in the tournament?”

Pyrrha frowned, “I can’t remember their names, it feels like it was so long ago, but… I don’t think they’d try something like this, even if it was possible.”

Travel between alternate worlds was something not even the mightiest Hunters and Huntresses could perform, least as far as Pyrrha knew. Harry though, seemed unconvinced, “None of them could’ve used that… Aura mojo you mentioned? I know some people who don’t take losing real well.”

Pyrrha shook her head, “No, no, they were good sports about it in the end, I promise. Plus, an Aura can’t do something like that. It’s a projection of one’s soul, and it is used to protect us from physical harm while boosting our speed and strength. Without it, we’d be as strong as the average human and couldn’t use our Semblances.”

Another raised brow. It was like Jaune, all over again. Pyrrha sighed, “A Semblance is an ability every Huntress possesses, a unique manifestation of their Aura. Some can move faster than the eye can follow, one of my teammates can absorb electricity, and a friend of mine gets stronger the more someone tries to hurt her.”

Harry rubbed his chin, and moved the eggs off the stove, “I see. And you?”

A simple thought, and raised hand sent a kitchen fork lying on the counter next to Harry flying into her hand with a soft _‘thwap!’_ of impact.

“Polarity.” Pyrrha smiled, “I can manipulate metal and steel.”

Harry quirked his lips, “Huh, a girly Magneto. Neat.”

“Who?”

“Stupid reference,” Harry said off hand, “On topic, you’re saying that these Semblances tend to be physical or combat oriented?”

“Generally, yes - even though there are some with practical, everyday applications as well.”

Harry muttered under his breath, “Guess that eliminates the revenge theory for now. One more question, then you need to eat.”

Pyrrha’s stomach grumbled again in agreement. She blushed and ducked her head, “Er, yes. What is it?”

“Do you think that whatever happened to you was caused by your Headmaster?” asked Harry.

Pyrrha opened her mouth to respond, and froze. Harry frowned, “Pyrrha, you okay?”

She didn’t hear him. Her skull was pounding, it felt as if pulsing with electricity, hurting, scorching the nerves of her brain with searing fire. A hammer blow exploded against the back of her skull and Pyrrha fell forward, barely stopping herself from hitting her head on the bar. Harry rushed around to help her, his mouth moving, but she heard nothing.

Images flashed in her mind, a dozen memories clear and familiar for a moment, then gone an instant later. Something had happened after she met Ozpin, something bad. She couldn’t remember what though, and trying to remember **_hurt_ ** . It hurt **_so much_ **.

Pyrrha clenched her eyes tight and felt tears at their corners. A small part of her realized she was crying. The rest of her screamed. More memories, more pain, so much pain, and she couldn’t pinpoint any of it. All she knew was that it was wrong, and that it **hurt**. No, not all, there was something - something she remembered, something that did not hurt her .. She reached out and grabbed onto that one snippet, that one vital memory of what might’ve happened to her. She didn’t know what it meant, only that it was important. In a sea of pain that battered her, tore at her, wanted nothing more than to drown her in its bitter agony, it was a life raft that kept her from drowning.

And as quickly as it came, the pain was gone.

Pyrrha realized she was crying. Gut wrenching, stinging sobs. Tears streaked down her face. She gasped for air and opened her tear-stained eyes. The kitchen was dark now, someone had turned out the lights. Pyrrha sobbed again and tried to cover her face with her hands, when she realized that strong, cool fingers encircled both her wrists, keeping them from thrashing about.

Harry had her held in place, his strength somehow far greater than possible, even for someone his size. But hold her he did, until the great heaving sobs finally died down, transforming into more quiet, desperate weeping. Once he was sure she wouldn’t hurt herself, Harry let Pyrrha go with exaggerated care.

She immediately buried her head in her arms and the tears came  again. Her scarlet hair was everywhere now, a total mess. Harry was at least kind enough to pull it away from her face, and he sat on the nearest stool next to her, keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder. Pyrrha didn’t do anything, just kept crying until finally, the tears just wouldn’t come. She didn’t feel any better.

Just stable.

Barely.

“How you feeling?” Harry finally asked after an eternity of silence.

Pyrrha felt humiliated. While she didn’t consider herself a prideful girl, and her recent situation certainly hadn’t been a cause for her to feel very prideful, Pyrrha was a warrior. With that came an image she was supposed to uphold for others, an ideal for them to strive towards. Ever since her fame had started to rise, her mother had reminded her to always maintain her composure, because those around her would always be watching and judging.

So she had, and scarcely an hour after meeting a potential ally, she had a mental breakdown from a few simple questions. Humiliated was the only word that adequately described how she felt for the moment. Harry, apparently, realized this.

“Hey now,” he patted her back gently and carefully tilted her head up.

She was a mess, big puffy red eyes, tear stained face, and a nose full of snot. Actual full on sobbing was never pretty for most people. A handful of people on the planet might be able to pull it off, but Pyrrha was not a pretty crier.

“It’s alright,” Harry softly said. He used a paper towel to wipe her tears away, and brushed her hair out of her face. “Just take a deep breath, alright?”

Pyrrha sniffled and did as he said. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in, one breath out. It was no cure, but it made her feel… Well certainly not better, but a little more capable.  

Harry smiled, a genuine one unlike his usual sarcastic grins. “See? Feeling any better?” Pyrrha murmured something and he leaned down, “Sorry, could you say that again?”

“…Do you believe in Destiny?”

He blinked, “Pardon?”

Another sniffle, and Harry handed her a fresh paper towel. “Thank you,” she murmured, and blew her nose. “Do you believe in Destiny? When I… when you asked me if I remembered, all these memories came pouring in. I couldn’t hold onto any of them… Except that.”

A few more tears spilled from her eyes, “I don’t know why, but… It hurts, just to say it.”

It was true. A gnarled and twisted knot had formed in the center of her sternum, right below her neck. It burned with intensity every time she thought of the phrase, but she had no idea why. Yet despite the pain, she also felt a burning desire to have an answer, a comparison, something. The memory made her feel helpless, that her arrival in Chicago was not of her own choice. Someone had made her come here, and whatever had happened back home was something she could never have prevented. The thought was as painful as the memory itself.

Harry’s smile faded away into something more serious. It wasn’t a menacing expression, just very… solid. “Pyrrha,” he started, “I want you to listen to me, and listen well, okay?”

She nodded her confirmation, but remained silent. Harry continued, “The way I used to see it, people have two paths when it comes to that question. Either you think you have a grand destiny, or you don’t. But I see a third option now. You can either worry about whatever your destiny is, or you can move on with your life and forge your own destiny.”

Pyrrha looked confused. That seemed the same as the second option. Harry raised a hand, “Let me explain. I know that someday I will die. It happens to everyone. Me, you, our friends. It’s a sad fact of life, but it’s a fact. But that trip there, what you’ll do and change along the way is entirely up to you. Sure, there might be some railroading along the way, but there is nothing stopping you from creating the destiny you want. Understand now? Destiny isn’t some predefined objective you are striving towards. It’s _your_ end goal.”

He sighed, “Long winded speech short, I believe in my own destiny, not the destiny others tell me. If I did, I’d have died a long time ago. Make sense?”

A few new tears formed in Pyrrha’s eyes, but they were happier tears, tears of relief. While thinking that phrase brought her pain still, what Harry said made a lot of sense. She wasn’t some puppet dancing on strings for someone else’s amusement. No, she was a person with her own feelings, thoughts and goals. Whatever her destiny was, she could and would forge it herself.

Harry wasn’t prepared for the tight hug Pyrrha gave him. A few ribs might have cracked, but he’d had worse. Besides, judging by the pain versus tears quota, it seemed like Pyrrha was long over-due for a hug, so Harry returned the gesture, hoping she could find some comfort in the embrace.

She finally looked up at him after a minute of crushing his ribs, her gaze clearer, “Thank you, Mr. Dresden. Really.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Harry said dismissively, “And I thought I told you to just call me Harry. The whole Mr. Dresden thing is starting to sound weird.”

Pyrrha blinked then nodded, her lips twitching. The Soulgaze wasn’t wrong, Harry was a good man. And one willing to weather a storm it seemed…

Because when Pyrrha glanced around, she saw why the lights had gone out. The room had been illuminated by fancy recessed lamps made of steel that looked really classy in the right conditions. ‘Had’ being the key word there. In her fit, Pyrrha’s Semblance had knocked out every light in the kitchen, tore drawers out from their cupboards, nearly tipped the oven over, ruining the eggs. A dozen knives and forks were embedded in the ceiling and walls, and one knife hung loosely from his shirt. The only thing that kept that sight from causing a panic attack was the fact that there was no blood.

“Oh my…” she said softly.

“Bah, it’s no big deal,” Harry assured her, “Minor damages, my landlord should understand.”

Pyrrha started to lower her head again, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Harry stopped her, “Ah, no more of that. We’ve had one crying fit today, I’d rather not make it two.”

That made her smile a little and-

A low groan echoed through the kitchen. Pyrrha blinked, “Um, what was that?”

Harry glanced down, “That, would be the metal bar stool you crushed finally giving way under our combined weight.”

“…Oh…”

“Yeah.”

There was a snap like a breaking twig, and the two went tumbling to the floor. Harry landed on the floor splayed, and Pyrrha landed on top of him. He made an ‘oof!’ noise from the impact. Pyrrha blinked stars from her eyes and pushed herself up.

“Heh, sorry about that.”

Harry laid there and grumbled, “Don’t worry about it. Shaping up to be one of those days anyway…”

On cue, the handle to the apartment’s entrance jiggled and turned, the door opening a moment later. The creaking it made lasted a subjective eternity for the two before it finally swung open all the way to reveal…

A short woman, no more than five feet tall, with bright blue eyes, and short blonde hair that came down to her jawline in an even sheet. She had an adorable button nose and laugh lines that, when taken together, made her look like someone’s favourite aunt. She was dressed in a dark blue shirt, jeans, and wore a sports jacket that read ‘Chicago Cubs’ on the in a little patch on the right side of her chest. The woman walked in, carrying two bags of clothes, and just stopped in place, gazing silently, implacably on them.

Pyrrha blinked once, looking at her. Harry followed her gaze, saw the woman, and froze stiff. The awkward silence was as thick as snow, until the woman spoke, in a deceptively calm voice, “Harry, you have exactly ten seconds to explain.”

That got the big man speaking, “K-Karrin, it’s not what it looks like, I swear to God it’s not what it looks like!”

The woman, Karrin, raised a blonde brow at him, then glanced at Pyrrha again. Her face was an unreadable mask. That was, until a giant grin spread across her face.

“Well then, you better start explaining, shouldn’t you?”

***

Pyrrha finished her shower and began the long and tedious process of brushing her hair straight. There had to be some reason she had decided to grow it this long, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was. At this point, she had gone too far to really go back now. So she sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, brushing her scarlet hair until it shone.

She took the time to reflect on the events that had unfolded after Ms. Karrin Murphy (Murphy, as the woman insisted she call her) had arrived at the apartment. To everyones general relief, Murphy had not tried to kill Pyrrha on the spot, and instead even helped her and Harry disentangle themselves. Murphy had, apparently, gone out to buy some proper clothes for Pyrrha while she had slept, for obvious reasons. The short woman handed the bags to Pyrrha after introductions were made and everyone was more or less composed, and gently nudged her towards the shower, while Harry, naturally, had to explain the situation to Murphy in the interlude.

Pyrrha hoped that she hadn’t gotten Harry into too much trouble with that accident. It was obvious from their interactions that he and Ms. Murphy were an item, and Pyrrha would never want to get in the way of anyone’s relationship. She personally knew how _that_ felt.

She sighed and pulled her hair back. Thinking about her home wasn’t going to get her there, as much as she wanted it to. Action was required, and as her friends often said, Pyrrha was a girl of action.

A selection of hair ties lay on the counter, courtesy of Murphy, and Pyrrha selected one to hold her hair in place. Her bangs fell forward again, framing her face, but that was normal. The girl in the mirror smiled at her, but Pyrrha knew it was fake. She was in a strange world with no memory of how she got there, and without anything familiar to hold onto. Even her hairstyle looked alien without her tiara to neatly hold it in place.

 _‘But,’_ she thought, _‘I’m not entirely alone. I do have at least one ally in this world. That’s certainly better than the alternative.’_

Dresden’s words echoed in her mind again, and she felt happier just thinking about them. No one would keep her from getting home, not even herself. Without a shadow of a doubt, Pyrrha knew that she would fight on, to return home to her friends and defend the Four Kingdoms from the Grimm. That was her destiny, and no one, not Grimm, not White Fang, not even her own morbid sense of negativity would stop her.

“A lack of pants might, though.” Pyrrha giggled a little, and decided to check out what Murphy had gotten for her. There were only two pairs to choose from, Murphy hadn’t known if Pyrrha had a home where she could change, but they were surprisingly thematic nonetheless. Murphy had good taste.

Pyrrha settled for something simple, given the type of clothing she’d seen from this world, and chose a long sleeved red blouse, a black skirt that stopped mid-thigh, and a pair of black stockings. Pyrrha missed her boots, but settled for red slip-ons that Murphy had chosen for her. Sneakers were never her style anyway.

“I suppose that will have to do,” Pyrrha said to herself.as she buttoned the blouse shut, she spotted something she hadn’t before. When she had first awoken in that alley, most of her pain had come from her chest. The injury to her leg had taken precedent rather quickly, but Pyrrha now had a chance to look at the center of her chest.

A faded mess of scar tissue rested in the center of her sternum, a stark white to the rest of her skin. Pyrrha trailed her fingertips over the scar, and shuddered at the electric touch. The scar was still recent, but like most things recently, Pyrrha had no idea how it got there. For the moment, it was just another beauty mark.

Pyrrha buttoned up her blouse the rest of the way, and smoothed out any wrinkles in her new outfit, before heading out to meet with Harry and Murphy.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head too hard?” Murphy asked Harry. Pyrrha stopped in front of the door and smiled a little. Odds were good that he’d finished bringing Murphy up to speed, and like Butters, Murphy was skeptical.

They had both migrated back to the fireplace, and Murphy, sure enough, wore an expression that to a more cynical mind, could be described as ‘extreme skepticism’. Harry took it in stride. “She’s legit, Karrin. You yourself saw the kitchen, at the very least there’s some truth to what she says. Just to confirm it though, we should probably check that alley where we found her.”

“Speaking of,” Pyrrha interjected, “I’m ready to leave when you are Mister- I mean Harry.”

They looked back at her and Harry blinked, “Huh. I didn’t think you even knew what a skirt was Karrin.”

Murphy crossed her arms and gave Harry a steady look, “Harry, please tell me you didn’t think it was a good idea to bring a teenaged girl back to the place where she was almost killed by some kind of monster?”

“Well, I…”

“I convinced him,” Pyrrha said quickly, before Harry could start digging his own grave.

Murphy looked back at her, then at Harry, “That doesn’t surprise me, you always were a sucker for a pretty face Dresden.”

Harry sighed and stood up, “Yeah yeah, I’m a total pushover. That said, I do think Pyrrha should come along - if she can follow instructions” He raised his brow as he looked at Pyrrha.

“Harry, think. Even if she’s legit, that would mean bringing along someone,who we know next to nothing about - all this on the slight chance it might do what, jog her memories?.”

“Then why not lend me a weapon?” Pyrrha interrupted again. Harry and Murphy both turned and looked at Pyrrha. During their argument, she’d walked up between them in case things got heated. Neither had even noticed her until she’d spoke up.

Murphy frowned, “You got a license? Or at least practical experience? Even then, I’d be hesitant to give a firearm to a minor.”

Pyrrha frowned, “That hardly seems fair, given the circumstances.”

“And neither is bringing you into a potentially dangerous situation.” Murphy said. “Hell, you’re lucky to be walking around at all.”

“I am perfectly fine, Miss Murphy, honest,” Pyrrha insisted. She could understand why Murphy was so reluctant - after all, she didn’t know what Pyrrha could do, and there was really no opportunity for a demonstration..

“Can I at least assume you know how to handle a gun?” Murphy asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “I’ve been training since I was just a child. Everyone I know can use firearms.”

“Well-“ Murphy began, looking less than happy.

Harry interrupted that thought process though. “Let her be, Murph.”

They both fell silent, though Pyrrha felt she was being rather unfairly treated by this whole situation. Harry rubbed at his eyes for a moment, obviously tired. Then, he gave Murphy a fixed look, “It’s just a quick trip to the alleyway, just to see if anything suspicious is afoot. If things go sideways, we can defend her if need be. Otherwise, I don’t see the harm in letting Pyrrha tag along.”

And that was the end of that.

Pyrrha was never sure exactly what part of that speech convinced Murphy to let her come along, but the woman sighed and marched off to the door. “Fine, fine. If you’re ready, then we can head out.”

Harry gathered his duster, staff, and the rod (he called it a blasting rod), Murphy grabbed her jacket, while Pyrrha just waited on them.The three of them left Harry’s apartment behind. Murphy insisted they use her car instead of Harry’s on account of it being completely wrecked right now, and lead them to a much sleeker-looking vehicle, in comparison to the bulbous bug that Harry drove. It was a bright white four door coupé, and looked new. When Pyrrha got into the back, the new car smell still lingered.

“I will never understand why you chose to buy another Beetle,” Murphy said to Harry once everyone was settled in.

Harry set his staff so that the end was poking back between their seats, and sighed, “You wouldn’t get it Murphy. The old Blue Beetle may be gone for good, but I don’t see anything wrong with a little nostalgia.”

“I bet those old man knees of yours disagree,” Murphy replied. There was humor in her voice though, and Harry chuckled. “You know you love it.”

“Do I?” Murphy tapped her lip. “I guess I do.”

Oh yeah. Definitely a couple.

***

Pyrrha stared out the window as Murphy drove them through the streets of Chicago. Last night’s thunderstorm had left the city soaked, and the thick cloud cover overhead made sure it hadn’t evaporated yet.

One thing Pyrrha realized immediately once they started driving, was that the city was huge. Impossibly huge. Vale had been fairly large for a human settlement, which weren’t exactly common back home. Large-scale cities had a habit of naturally generating negativity that would attract Grimm. It was perhaps the main reason why the Mountain Glenn project, an attempt to expand the Kingdom borders, had ended so poorly.

Chicago clearly didn’t have that problem. The skyscrapers were colossal things, stretching so high that Pyrrha could see them start to curve. Thousands of bustling people crowded the sidewalks and streets, each going about their day. Vale could have moments like that too, and it certainly had its share of skyscrapers, but the difference was in numbers and size. Vale had a few towers downtown, but Chicago was packed with them. There had to be more people living in the city than all of Vale combined.

This was a world where the Grimm didn’t exist. A world without constant fear, without a constant, never-changing threat. Chicago was an example of what Remnant would be in true peace. A peace that might never come.

It was an unspoken truth for… well, everyone. The Grimm were a force of nature, like a hurricane or earthquake. Sure, you could build walls, shore up your defenses, and prepare for the next tragedy to strike, but you could never end them. No matter what they did, at best they could limit the damage the Grimm inflicted on them, and at worse, survive a tragedy.

That had to be it, didn’t it? Something had happened back at Vale, something bad. That would explain how she’d wound up in Chicago, or at the very least, provide a plausible motivation for whoever sent her there. Pyrrha’s stomach twirled and she felt queasy. If someone had sent her away, what did they plan on doing? Every Huntress pulled from the front lines was another chink in the carefully constructed defenses of Vale.

What tragedy had struck her home? Pyrrha twitched, and looked away from the window. “How much longer?”

“I’m looking for a place to park,” Murphy responded.

Harry grabbed his staff as they came to a stop by a familiar location. The scuffle from the previous night had left its marks; inch-deep claw imprints dug into the surrounding asphalt, a pair of dark skid marks, and a scraps of metal from his car were scattered everywhere.

A small construction crew was parked across the street from them, scratching their heads at the damage. The answer obviously wouldn’t occur to them, and Pyrrha was not particularly inclined to tell them. To her further surprise, most civilians were simply ignoring the damage to the road, as if it were a common occurrence!

“Get used to it kid,” Harry said. “People in general tend to ignore things that don’t fit into their daily lives. A little road damage won’t catch their eye.”

Pyrrha frowned, “That does not seem right.”

Harry opened his door, “It’s not. It’s a coping mechanism.”

He stood up and opened Pyrrha’s door for her. That made her smile a little, and she joined him and Murphy around the car. They were quite the odd group, a near seven foot tall man dressed in a leather duster with an equally tall, intricately carved staff, a six foot tall redhead dressed for what looked like her first business meeting, and the five-nothing blonde woman in a Chicago Cubs sport jacket. Subtlety was not their strongest suite.

Murphy popped open the trunk, and Pyrrha’s eyes widened in surprise. Several black duffel bags were packed tightly inside. If Pyrrha’s guess was right, and her Semblance suggested she was right, there was enough firepower packed in that trunk for a small army.

Murphy glance at Harry, “So, what do you think? Bring a duffel bag, or leave it?”

The wizard looked from the trunk, to his staff, to Murphy. “How’s your arm?”

Murphy scowled at Harry, and shot him the most venomous look Pyrrha had seen on the woman’s face. “Harry. Duffel bag or no?”

Harry was unfazed by the look Murphy gave him, and tapped his staff lightly against her leg. “Murphy, you just finished physical therapy. How is your arm?”

She kept glaring, and simply lifted her left arm to chest height. Most people would’ve missed the minute wince of pain that showed on her face. Pyrrha didn’t, and neither did Harry.

He said, “Just keep the piece you already have on you, we should be gone before trouble finds us,” and closed the trunk.

“Damn it Dresden, I hate it when you try to baby me like this.”

Harry strode past her, “Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

Pyrrha stood there awkwardly for a split second. Murphy looked at her with an only marginally less venomous scowl… And Pyrrha decided to follow Harry. Obviously this was a rather hot topic for the couple, and Pyrrha would rather not get dragged into it.

Pyrrha managed to catch up to Harry right as he reached the edge of the alley. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Looks different in the day, doesn’t it?”

It was true. Pyrrha had barely seen the alley when she woke up in it. Sure, she’d had an idea of how it looked like and what it was, but there was so little light that the details were hard to make out. But even in the cloud-covered Chicago daylight, she could make out quite a few subtler details.

For one, the alley was curved in the middle, letting a small shallow stream of rainwater build up into a decent sized puddle. Graffiti covered the walls, and it was wet just like everything else in the city. Pyrrha also noted that the stench had grown worse. Stealing that tarp for her makeshift dress had left the garbage exposed to the elements and it did not make the smell anymore pleasant.

Yet even though it was the middle of the day, Pyrrha still very much remembered what had happened here. That feeling of helplessness, the terror and weakness that coursed through her were not pleasant memories.

Pyrrha shuddered and ducked her head, “Different, but still the same.”

Harry noticed her reaction. “Want to stay out here instead? I can find what we need on my own.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” Pyrrha said.

“Good, then let’s go.” Said Murphy. The short woman had caught up to them, and while she was no longer glaring, her tone was definitely hinting at her tenseness.

Harry grunted, and they entered the alleyway, the wizard going straight to the back of the alley, eyes on the ground and steps slow. Murphy moved her head from side to side, scanning meticulously, and said nothing. Pyrrha made sure to watch for puddles, and approached the spot she’d woken up in. It wasn’t hard to find.

The ground had been stained a faint rusty orange. Either the rain hadn’t managed to wash all the blood away, or her injury had been worse than she thought. In fact, Pyrrha could see a small trail of the substance leading all the way up to the dumpster, where it had pooled again. She shuddered at how close she’d come to bleeding out. If Harry and Butters hadn’t come across her, well…

Pyrrha knelt by the first pool of blood and frowned. “Harry, I think I found something.”

The big man appeared quickly and leaned over her. Pyrrha pointed to a perfect ring of scorched asphalt. Something had appeared on it, melting the road in a neat circle. Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Something glimmering in the pale sunlight caught Pyrrha’s eyes. She focused on it, and gasped.

“What, what is it?” Harry asked, concern in his voice.

“Nothing that can directly help us,” Pyrrha admitted, and reached for the object. “But it’s something from home.”

She showed it to Harry, and he raised a brow, “Is that… a tiara?”

Its bronze surface was soot-stained, and covered in watermarks, but the leaf pattern and green gem was unharmed. Even the small chains were intact. Pyrrha smiled faintly and rubbed some of the soot off the bronze.

“It is. It was part of my armor back in Vale. I didn’t think anything had come with me when I woke up here.”

Being wrong felt nice, for once.

“I see,” Harry said. He grunted and straightened up, “Well then, stand back for a minute Pyrrha. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve that should let me see if any supernatural tampering went on here.”

She stood up and took a step back, “What kind of trick is that?”

“Complicated to explain,” Harry said, “But in basic terms, it’s a Sight that lets me see things for what they really are. If there were forces of magic at work here, I should be able to see it. I’d just prefer not having anything else get in the way.”

“Oh!” Pyrrha took another step back, “I’m sorry. By all means, please!”

Harry smirked and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, his eyes had changed. His pupils had dilated until his irises were but a thin ring of brown. The effect was unnerving, but also strangely entrancing. Pyrrha quickly looked away, because she was sure if she hadn’t, she’d never be able to.

“He doing the Sight thing?” Murphy asked. The woman was very good at appearing silently by someone’s side.

Pyrrha nodded, “Does he do that often?”

“Every so often a case comes up with too few leads. That Sight of his has saved quite a few lives in the long run.”

“Impressive,” Pyrrha murmured.

Harry frowned as he stared rather intently at the melted asphalt. “This explains a lot, and raises so many more questions.”

“What is it?” Murphy asked.

Before Harry could answer, the ground beneath their feet promptly exploded into a shower of gravel. Pyrrha and Murphy were flung against the dumpster, and Harry crashed against the wall. Smoke rose into the air, and a high pitched screech rent the air. Pyrrha’s eyes shot opened, and she started struggling to her feet.

Several black shapes emerged from the smoke, each about the size of a large dog. They were Theropods, two legged creatures with torsos parallel to the ground. They had no arms, and large gnashing maws filled with dagger-like fangs. A hide of pebbly white bone covered their backs and legs, and their skulls were visible, glistening with streaks of red.

Creeps, the most basic of Grimm. A few days ago, they’d hardly be a threat to Pyrrha. But now she had no weapons, no armor, and her two companions did not possess her skill or experience with the Grimm. Well, except maybe Harry, he seemed to have the power to handle a Grimm just fine.

The big wizard pulled himself up, using his staff to keep himself steady as he rose. Once he was on his feet, he glared at the Grimm through narrowed eyes. They shot open, before the wizard fell on his knees, retching, dry heaves shuddering his lean frame.

“Harry!” Murphy was back on her feet, a small semi-automatic pistol in her hands and focused on the Creeps. Her eyes were hard and clear, and if she was scared of the creatures hissing and snarling at her, she did an excellent job at hiding it.

Harry tried to say something, to move, but another bout of dry heaving forced him to slump again. Murphy cursed her luck. “These those Grimm he mentioned Ms. Nikos?”

No answer.

Murphy blinked and looked at where Pyrrha had been standing a moment ago. The young woman had simply vanished from sight, not a hair in sight.

“Good, at least one of us has the sense to run...but I swear to God if we get out here, you’ll answer to me, little girl!”

Murphy sighted down the barrel of her pistol at the Grimm nearest to Harry. If she kept their attention off him at least, he might live long enough to get up and end this, or run..

“Sorry Dresden.” Murphy murmured, and pulled the trigger.

“Excuse me!” Pyrrha’s voice rang out from behind.

The Creeps swiveled towards the alley exit. Murphy half-mirrored them, keeping the beasts in her field of vision, and blinked in surprise. Pyrrha stood with one of the duffel bags swung over her shoulder. That tiara she found had been wiped clean of soot and rested comfortably on her head. And in her hands was a standard issue Remington 870 pump-action shotgun. She held it comfortably, with the air of a woman who had spent most of her life at the range.

Pyrrha shouldered the gun and scowled at the Grimm, not uttering a sound. The Creeps hissed and screeched at Pyrrha, but seemed almost reluctant to charge. Murphy stood there, weighing her options, but never once let her sight on the creatures waver. It was a Mexican stand-off, monsters in one corner, humans in the other. All it would take was a single strike to light this powder keg.

Something Murphy was all too happy to do. She steadied her bead on the nearest Grimm, and pulled the trigger.

And all Hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. Action comes next, and an actual plot begins to take shape. Lemme know what you guys think so far in the comments.


	4. Chapter 3

Pyrrha dropped to her knees and fired at the nearest Grimm. The beast’s skull exploded into a puddle of black sludge, and it fell on its side where it twitched once, then died. The shock and kick of the shotgun surprised her, as Pyrrha had experience with more precise weapons. A shotgun was a little less so, but she adjusted quickly, pumped the shotgun, and ducked under the next Creep.

It crashed to the ground behind her, claws scraping against asphalt and beak snapping, emitting a series of hollow clopping sounds. Pyrrha ignored it and looked up at the third Creep. This one had been smarter than the others, and let its more foolhardy fellows charge her first. It shrieked a challenge at Pyrrha, and bolted across the ground. After three short strides, it launched itself at her.

Pyrrha calmly steadied the stock of the shotgun on the ground, holding the weapon at an even angle, and pulled the trigger. The buckshot tore into the Grimm, rending shadowy flesh and bone. It fell back across the alley and crashed to the ground, its legs twitching once, then going still.

Without even looking, Pyrrha stood up, grabbed the shotgun by the end of its barrel, and spun on her heel. The weapon made a satisfying crunching sound as it shattered the skull of the remaining Creep. Its limp body sailed through the air, and splattered against the wall. Its remains fell from the brick façade in a slurping sound, puddling into the ground. It began to evaporate a moment later.

Pyrrha put the beast out of her mind, pumped the shotgun, and marched to the Creep Murphy had shot. The other woman landed a good shot, right behind the back of its skull. The creature lay on the ground thrashing and hissing in furious rage. Pyrrha planted her foot on its neck, pinning the creature to the ground.

Its beady red eye glared at Pyrrha with familiar malevolence. Even wounded and at her mercy, there was no disguising the sheer hatred that radiated from the Grimm. It struggled in vain to free itself from her foot, and snapped its oversized jaws uselessly in the air. Pyrrha jammed the shotgun against its skull, and fired once. The Grimm stopped struggling.

“Holy shit.”

Pyrrha pumped the shotgun again and glanced over her shoulder at Murphy. The short woman was staring incredulously, eyes wide as she took in the now dead Grimm that littered the alleyway. The monsters had already started the familiar pattern of evaporating into smoke after death.

Shouldering the shotgun, Pyrrha quickly rushed to Murphy’s side. “Are you alright? Unharmed?”

Murphy’s eyes were wide, “I…you…with the…how…”

Pyrrha scanned the alleyway. The hole the Grimm had emerged from was inactive at the moment, but she’d rather not take any chances. “Ms. Murphy, I will happily answer any questions you have, later. But right now, we need to get Harry and get out of here. Creeps never travel in small numbers.”

“Wait, there could be more of those things?”

“Yes, which is why we need to move sooner, rather than later.”

Murphy swallowed once, eyes tracking, searching for movement, and then she nodded, her blue eyes shining with resolve. Without another word, both women moved over to the still dry-heaving Harry, and helped him up. He was heavier than he looked, even though he did try to help them. They marched for the exit, Harry tottering between him.

“What happened to him?” Pyrrha asked.

Murphy grunted, “That Sight thing he mentioned. He probably was still ‘Seeing’ things when those monsters showed up. I’ve heard he’s seen some nasties before that were pretty bad. One of them basically put him in a coma until he managed to get used to the idea of what he was seeing.”

Pyrrha glanced at the Grimm as the last of their remains evaporated. “That would certainly explain his reaction.”

Grimm alone were bad enough to look at. Pyrrha didn’t want to know what they’re ‘true form’ looked like.

“Is he going to be alright?”

Murphy bit her lip, “I don’t know. If he has enough time, probably. We’ll get him in the car and head back to the apartment, then-“

The ground shuddered beneath their feet once, twice, three times. The women stopped, and Pyrrha slowly released Dresden. Murphy, tensed without looking back down the alley. Pyrrha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Ms. Murphy, please take Harry to the car. This should only take a minute or two.” Another shudder, this time the asphalt pitched upward with the motion. Murphy didn’t stumble, instead she tightened her grip on Harry. The man dry-heaved again, and shuddered.

Pyrrha smiled, “Thank you.” And turned around.

The crater the Creeps had emerged from bucked three times. The first sent a spiderweb of cracks rippling across the asphalt. The second shattered the edge of the crater, causing it to start collapsing in on itself. The third exploded into a fountain of stone with an ear splitting crack. Pyrrha shielded her eyes with her arm from the rain of gravel. Bits of the stone pattered against her skin and parts of her outfit tore, but her Aura protected her from any real damage.

She lowered her arm and watched the Grimm emerge from the crater. One huge furry paw emerged from the hole and grabbed at the nearest wall. It seemed large as her torso and tipped with five dagger-like, bone-white claws. Muscles like steel cables rippled beneath all that greasy matted fur.

Another paw emerged and grabbed for the opposite wall. They flexed together, and a colossal black bear pulled itself from the ground. Calling the Grimm a bear was a bit of a generalization though. This beast was larger and more powerful than an normal bear. It’s bleached white skull was also exposed, and large red eyes glared at Pyrrha. A small pyre of bone white spikes burst from its back, and pads of the that pebbly hide covered its shoulders and thighs.

This was what was called an Ursa Major, and they were far more powerful than a Creep or Beowolf. And it was standing over the shotgun that Pyrrha had foolishly abandoned when she started to help moving Harry. The Grimm seemed to realize this, and snarled a challenge at the young woman.

Pyrrha’s response was elegant in its simplicity.

She sprinted at it full speed, dropped into a baseball players slide, scooped the shotgun off the ground, passed under the Ursa’s legs, and performed a rolling jump onto the other side of the crater.

The Ursa whirled around far faster than something its size should’ve been able to move, and brought one massive paw down on her. Pyrrha rolled to the side, feeling the breeze of the blow when it missed by inches. It came down on the asphalt and sent a rippling ravine shooting across the asphalt. Pyrrha fired the shotgun in response. A chunk of its mask below the left eye shattered under the impact, but an Ursa was far more durable than a Creep. The shot just made it angrier.

It swiped at Pyrrha again, but the girl effortlessly dodged the blow. The moment her feet hit the floor, she sprinted clockwise around the Grimm, leaping up onto the wall. The Ursa was fast, but Pyrrha was significantly faster. She pushed off the wall and crashed into the beast’s shoulders. She grabbed one of its spikes to hold tight, pressed the barrel of the shotgun into the base of its skull, and pulled the trigger.

_‘Click!’_

“What!?” She looked at the weapon in surprise, “Only five shots!?”

Her perch suddenly shifted under her feet, and Pyrrha was nearly thrown off. The Ursa howled in rage and started tipping back. It was going to crush her under its considerable mass, maybe impale her with its spines. As if she would let that happen.

Pyrrha leaped off back towards the exit. She hit the floor in another roll, sprung to her feet, and twisted to face the Grimm. It was rolling back and forth to get back onto its paws, but it was distracted from her for the moment. This would be the perfect point to attack, but Pyrrha only had the now empty shotgun, and it wouldn’t be efficient or safe to try and bludgeon a twelve foot tall demon-bear to death.

She needed something with range, something that she had more personal experience with. Pyrrha did a quick look around, and found no real weapons to speak of. She could go for the duffle bag, but the time it would take to pull ammo or another gun out would be time too long. Something makeshift would be far more useful.

Her eye fell on the dumpster for a moment. It had one of those heavy iron bars welded to its front so it could be towed. Six feet long, heavy iron, it’d have to do. Pyrrha tossed the shotgun aside, grabbed the bar, and heaved. Even with an aura enhanced sense of strength, very few people would be able to rip iron with anything resembling ease. Luckily, Pyrrha didn’t need enhanced strength to pull that off.

A simple application of her Semblance caused the iron welds holding it in place to crack under the strain. The bar popped off with a sharp snap, and Pyrrha was suddenly wielding a six foot long iron pole. It was a poor replacement for her personal weapon, but beggars can’t be choosers. A quick flick against the ground flattened one end, and her semblance warped it into a crude, but sharp, spearhead.

The Ursa finally managed to roll back onto its stomach, and stood on all fours. It loosed a bone-chilling roar of challenge. Pyrrha casually twirled the spear in her hand, and charged the Ursa. It swiped at her, missing when she leaped over the beast. She swept her spear forward, shattering its spines into shards of bone. She landed behind the beast and stabbed one of its hind legs at the knee.

The Ursa’s leg went limp, and it struggled to face her. Pyrrha jumped back again, and quickly lunged forward. The spearhead hit its eye, sinking deep into its skull. The Grimm screeched in agony, and lurched onto its hind legs again. Pyrrha yelped, and went up with it. She did not let go of her spear though.

As the Grimm stumbled about in pain, its injured limb finally buckled under the weight. Pyrrha lurched under the movement, yet managed to push herself back down so her feet were pressed against its skull. She pulled hard, ripping the spear free with a disturbing squelch of flesh, and did a backflip off the monster. Pyrrha landed, legs splayed, at the alley exit.

As she stood, the Ursa stumbled around until it was facing her, its remaining eye filled with renewed hatred. Pyrrha scowled and stood up. Without missing a beat, she struck a javelin throwers pose, and held up a single thumb to act as her sight. The muscles along her back and legs wound tight, and her grip tightened.

She flung the javelin with enough force that it would’ve left burns in the hands of a normal person who had no Aura to protect them. The Grimm was not so lucky though. The spear arced gracefully, and sank halfway up its hilt into the monsters single remaining eye.

The roar of agony that followed was deafening. The Ursa flailed its arms around in pain and fury, mindlessly trying to smash Pyrrha with one of those cinderblock paws. It was a useless gesture, as she was safely out of range for the moment. Pyrrha silently watched the monster flail, trying to find a pattern, which she could exploit to put it down, when Murphy’s voice rang out.

“Pyrrha, get down!”

She dropped flat without a second thought. Something heavy whipped overhead, and there was a piercing snap, followed by a meaty smack. Pyrrha looked up and saw the Ursa was no longer flailing about in pain. The huge two-handed battle-axe buried in the center of its face likely had something to do with that.

The beast had been hit mid-spasm, and the blow had slain it instantly. The momentum of its thrashing kept it going for a few more seconds, and so it hit the alley wall with far too much force. Brick and mortar exploded across the alley, and the dead Grimm slumped into its makeshift hole. Inky black smoke began to evaporate from its form a moment later.

“Wow,” Pyrrha said. “That was an impressive throw, Ms. Murphy.”

Pyrrha turned around and froze in surprise. Murphy still stood where Pyrrha had last seen her, a look of annoyance flashing across her face before it smoothed out into an impassive mask. Harry was leaning on her, still dazed and confused. Behind them stood half dozen sharply dressed, well-armed men. Pyrrha noted the appreciative stares she got from them, and she was surprised that their gazes focused more on her stance and bearing, than her figure. If she had to guess, they had just seen her bout with the Grimm and had a fairly good idea of what she was capable of. Well, she smiled inwardly, it may give them pause if things went south.

The leader of the men stepped past Murphy and Pyrrha blinked in surprise. It was a woman, and a rather tall one at that. She stood an inch or two taller than Pyrrha, with blonde hair tied into a neat bun, her face was strong and she had hard blue eyes. Like her men, she was dressed in a business suit, hers was a shade of silver as opposed to the their black. She had the posture and fluid grace of a veteran Huntress, and her presence reminded her a bit of Professor Goodwitch - similar sternness, similarly powerful force presence.

The woman’s gaze skimmed over Pyrrha and the decaying Grimm, and gestured to the men. They moved cautiously to surround Pyrrha and her companions, but did not make overtly threatening moves, like pointing weapons at them. Murphy sighed in annoyance, and pinched her nose. “Gard, do you really think that necessary, after what you just saw?”

Gard flashed a mirthless smile at her, “I see a mortal warrior capable of physical feats not seen in a long time, Ms. Murphy. To be less than cautious could be the equivalent of signing my men’s death warrants.”

Pyrrha found it interesting that the men did not really react to what Gard said. The blonde woman continued, observing Murphy and Harry with a single arched brow. “Are you willing to vouch for this young woman?”

“Yes,” Murphy said, and Harry nodded as well, the gesture marred by another bout of retching, no doubt caused by the sudden movement.

“Ah, I see,” said Gard, “Then would you three kindly follow us?.”

Murphy scowled, “Wait, follow you where? And how did you even know we were here?”

Gard’s face remained impassive, “There were reports of screaming and fire during the thunderstorm last night. It was only a matter of waiting for Dresden to return. Mr. Marcone wishes to speak with him on a matter most important.”

Who was Marcone? Pyrrha was curious, but with the tension in the air, she held back, content for the moment to let Murphy and Dresden take the lead, as she surmised both knew the blonde amazon.

Murphy’s scowl didn’t fade, and she seemed ready to push Harry behind her and shield him with her body if she had to. Or maybe she wanted to strangle Gard, Pyrrha was not sure. The woman was sending off a lot of mixed messages with her posture.

“He’s not really up to meeting with your boss, Gard.” Murphy growled through clenched teeth. “Give us a few hours, we’ll see if we can work you into our schedule.”

Gard shook her head, “I fear that is not an option. Time is of the essence, and a delay of hours may have tragic consequences.”

“Oh no,” Murphy remained completely deadpan, “Marcone’s business operations are suffering a hit. How will I ever live with myself knowing that I let Marcone lose a profit on his completely legal business operations?”

A frown crossed Gards face, and she gestured to her men, who distanced themselves a bit. Pyrrha noted that they never quite relaxed though. They were experienced men then.

“It’s an issue that just screams for Dresden’s involvement Ms. Murphy. Knowing him, he would become involved eventually..”

Pyrrha tensed, waited for Murphy to explode into action. Her own semblance was ready to rip free weapons to disarm and put down Gard’s men. Murphy however said nothing, just locked her gaze with Gard, and the air between the two blondes almost shimmered with the tension. After several seconds, Gard looked at Pyrrha, breaking the silent duel.

Pyrrha felt naked without a weapon of some kind, and these people where a wild card. She wasn’t sure what they might do if they didn’t like Murphy’s answer. So Pyrrha decided to go for extra insurance. She avoided Gard’s look, and glanced back at the nearly gone Ursa corpse. The axe lay on the ground now, its edge glistening in the light.

With a flick of her wrist, Pyrrha’s Semblance pulled the axe through the air and smacked it into her hand. She was more experienced with swords and spears, but Pyrrha had handled an axe before. She secured it in both hands and returned her gaze to Gard. The blonde woman was unreadable. Her men had grown more tense, but that was all she could read from them.

Murphy smirked, “We’ll be going now, if that’s okay with you,” Her eyes twinkled with appraisal, and she had a smug grin on her face. Pyrrha slowly circled Gard and started back-stepping towards Murphy, never letting the woman, or her guards, out of her sight.

Gard fumbled what appeared to be a silver coin between the fingers on her right hand, completely at ease despite Pyrrha’s demonstration of power. “I feel I have no choice in the matter as of this moment, I am unarmed and faced with a teenage girl, and a near crippled ex-cop. Whatever am I supposed to do?”

Murphy’s smile didn’t fade, but her eyes flashed with irritation. “Pyrrha, can you knock her out with that axe of yours?”

Pyrrha blinked, “I…um…”

“No,” Gard said, “I’m afraid you can’t, Miss Pyrrha.”

Gard twitched her fingers, and the coin in her hand snapped in two. There was a crackle of thunder, a flash of white hot agony, and everything went dark.

*******

Pyrrha woke up with another piercing headache, in another unfamiliar location. That would make it, what, the third time this had happened? Or was it the fourth? At this rate, she was going to need to start keeping score.

A quick look around, she was getting way too good at that, showed that she was in a limousine of some kind. It wasn’t incredibly large, but it was large enough to let Pyrrha comfortably sleep on one of its chairs. It had soft white leather seats, a furnished interior, and what looked like a cooler. It was also filled with armed men and women.

They all occupied the front of the cabin, where Gard sat between them, no weapon to be seen. Across from her, Murphy sat with two more armed men around her. And across from Pyrrha, Dresden sat, one hand covering his eyes while he rocked back and forth softly muttering to himself.

“What happened?”

That was what Pyrrha tried to ask. It came out as more of a pained grunt. Murphy glanced at her first and looked relieved, “Oh thank god you’re still alive.”

Pyrrha swallowed to wet her throat, “What…happened?”

“I activated the enchantment on my axe to disable you.” Gard said simply.

“Bullshit, you practically fried her!” Murphy accused.

Gard shrugged, “If she were a normal mortal, it would likely have removed her arm from its socket. As it is, she is exceptionally more durable than most mortals, so I found it safe to use the rune.”

Harry groaned and rubbed at his temples. His eyes were stained with tears and his voice was a low growl, “Can you guys…keep it down? Or… at the very least… dump some bleach down my skull.”

Murphy smiled a little, “Hey, he speaks. How’re you feeling Dresden?”

A slight bump in the road shook the limo. Harry groaned and let his head drop. “You know the feeling you get after a long night at Mac’s?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish I felt like that right now.”

A wry smile touched Gard’s lips. “As always, your tenacity in the face of overwhelming opposition is admirable Dresden.”

“Save it Gard.” Harry grumbled. The hostility in his voice was very apparent. He sat up and ran a hand over his face, finally blinking his eyes open.

When he saw Pyrrha, he frowned a little. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes, tired as they were, spoke a very clear message.

_‘We need to talk. Soon.’_

Pyrrha blinked in surprise, but nodded faintly in confirmation. Obviously Harry knew something that was fairly important. Unfortunately, it’d have to wait until their appointment with this ‘Mr. Marcone’ was over.

Which brought up another question, actually.

Pyrrha pulled herself up, ignoring the jackhammer in at her temples, and asked, “Where… are you taking us?”

“My employer has many safe houses. We’ll be heading to one Mr. Dresden already knows quite well.” Gard said smoothly.

Harry covered his face, “Oh god. Can we leave the kid here then at least? I don’t think minors are even allowed in places like that.”

Gard just looked amused, while Pyrrha cocked her head to one side, “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t really answer my question Ms. Gard.”

Murphy grinned in a very cheeky manner, “We’re going to Harry’s personal ‘gym’. Full platinum membership, right Dresden?”

“Murphy, please,” Harry grumbled, and slumped into his seat.

Pyrrha felt her eyebrow twitch, “Please, can you clarify that?”

More grumbling from Harry, before he finally seemed to suck it up and tell her, “A brothel. We’re going to meet Marcone at a brothel.”


	5. Chapter 4

“What’s a brothel?”

Pyrrha had never heard the term before, and assumed it was something native to Harry’s world. It was a simple question, and she was getting used to asking Harry to clarify something about his world. 

For some reason when Pyrrha asked that question, Harry’s eyes went wide and his face went scarlet. Their escort started snickering, while Murphy was vainly trying to hide her grin Only Gard remained composed. After rolling her eyes she turned back to staring out her window, impatiently tapping her foot.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand, what’s so funny” Pyrrha asked. 

Murphy tittered behind her hand, “N-nothing. Why don’t you explain it to her Harry? You’re the best man for the job.”

The glare Harry sent her way could have killed, but it only made Murphy renew her giggling. Harry sighed and scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “It’s… well, a place where… adults go to do… adult… things.”

Pyrrha raised a brow, “Like what? Gambling?”

More laughter, this time from the guards. Harry scowled at them. “No, it’s…different adult things.”

Pyrrha blinked at him.

Harry sighed, “Okay, look… well… you see, when a man and women enjoy each other’s company-“

The answer suddenly clicked in Pyrrha’s head. “O-okay, you can s-stop right there please! I think I understand now.”

“Oh thank god,” Harry sighed and palmed his face again. 

The limos passengers erupted in laughter, and even Gard had a small smile on her face. Pyrrha felt her cheeks start to burn, and took an acute interest in the floor. Knowing what Harry meant now, that meant a brothel was…was…

Ew.

Pyrrha squeezed her eyes and shook her head. That was a mental image she was never going to get out of her head now. Truly she was blessed to have met such interesting people in such a short span of time.

Again, ew.

*******

The rest of the drive was spent in awkward silence. Pyrrha developed a unique fascination with the floor, and Harry focused on clearing his mind of whatever it was he had seen when the Grimm attacked. Murphy remained silent, but her eyes kept a close watch on Gard.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, Gard spoke for the first time in what felt like ages. “We’re here. Everyone out.”

They did as they were told. The driver had parked in front of what had once been a two-story hotel of some kind. Now it looked like its lower floor had been converted to house several legitimate businesses like furniture stores, organic food sales, and so forth. Obviously, the first floor wasn’t where Gard was taking them.

Speaking of, the woman snapped her fingers and the guards opened the trunk, gathering several items from it. Harry was handed his staff and blasting rod, Murphy her pistol, and Pyrrha was given a jacket and a new set of shoes. 

Harry eyed Gard, “Not afraid I’ll try to start something if you give me my gear back?”

“No.” was Gard’s simple reply. Harry grunted and accepted his staff. Murphy took  her pistol from the guard, checked it, then nodded to him. Pyrrha just tried not to blush more.

In all the confusion during the fight, Pyrrha hadn’t realized that clothes in Harry’s universe weren’t designed to interact with the Aura of their wearer. Thus, the outfit Murphy had gotten for her was practically in pieces. Several tears had formed along the seams of her tights, her skirt was ragged, and Gard’s security measure on her battle axe had incinerated the entire right arm of her blouse. She’d also lost her shoes in the fighting at some point, leaving her barefoot again.

Needless to say, Pyrrha gracefully accepted the offered articles of clothing. Once she was dressed, their little group was marched into the hotel. Pyrrha didn’t get a chance to really look around inside, there were too many guards around them. It was just a march to a sleek elevator that was neatly tucked out of plain view.

Gard pressed a button on its panel, and a woman’s cheery voice crackled through the speaker, ‘ _ Welcome to Executive Priority Health. How may I help you?’ _

“It’s Gard.” Her voice was curt and brooked no nonsense.

There was a visible pause over the line. When the woman spoke again, her cheer remained, but there was a tremor to it.  _ ‘A-ah, Ms. Gard. We’ll ready and escort- _

“Unnecessary. Just send the elevator down.”

_ ‘Y-yes ma’am!’ _

The elevator doors dinged open, and they shuffled inside - well, some of them, as only Gard and another guard squeezed in apart from Pyrrha and her new friends. Harry tapped his staff against the ground.

“Wizard in a tight space, with someone who threatened his friends. Not a good place to be Gard.”

Gard looked at him blandly, “If you had been coherent, Dresden, we would not be in this situation in the first place. Ms. Murphy decided to make things more difficult than necessary, and your…” she glanced at Pyrrha, “…other companion unwisely escalated the situation. Rest assured, my employer has no interest in harming you, given recent events.”

Harry scratched his chin, “Uh huh, right. We’ll see about that when I talk to him, won’t we?”

“Indeed we shall.”

The elevator doors opened a moment later, and Gard lead them out. It wasn’t quite what Pyrrha had expected. From what Harry had described, she expected the building to be quite a bit seedier. Instead, she saw a state of the art gym spread before her.

Tall ceilings, warm colors, and various workout equipment that looked quite top of the line. Even the front desk looked very classy for what was essentially an overdone gym. The company name was emblazoned with gold on the wall behind the desk, and a woman of average height sat at the desk

Actually, a quick look around showed Pyrrha that there were women everywhere. All of them seemed to be in their early twenties, looking very fit, average height, and wore short shorts and tight black shirts with their names emblazoned across their ample… assets. All the clients on the workout machines were dominantly male, not a single woman among them. Pyrrha wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“How long do we need to be here?” she whispered to Harry.

He shook his head, “If things go smoothly, only a few minutes. Just keep your head down, kiddo. Long as you don’t make eye contact, you should be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“A job offer,” Murphy mumbled. Unlike Pyrrha, she made precious little attempt to disguise her contempt for the place. She was practically radiating a ‘screw off and die’ atmosphere, an impressive feat for someone so small.

Gard lead them past all the workout machines and clientele of the establishment surprisingly fast, for which Pyrrha was decidedly thankful. The less time she spent at this so called health club, the better. 

Gard lead them to a small door near the back, labelled ‘Executive Offices’ and opened it. Inside was a hallway of doors, each opening into well-furnished offices which smelled faintly of wood polish. The steady tap-tap-tap of typing was the only sound in the halls. Apart from that, the place was eerily quiet, and the air seemed to hum with a subtle, wary tension. Something big had happened recently, and these workers were nervous.

Gard escorted them down the hall to the final door. Before she opened it, Harry snapped his fingers. “I just realized what was wrong. What happened to Cujo? He’s normally around for these meetings slash interrogations.”

Gard’s hand tightened around the door’s handle, and her jaw set into a firm line. For a moment, Pyrrha tensed in case Gard decided to use said door as a bludgeoning instrument on Harry. She managed to control herself, but only with a visible effort.

Gard twisted the handle until it popped and pushed the door open. “They’re here, sir.” She growled, and stepped aside.

Harry raised a brow at Gard’s behavior before stepping inside. Pyrrha followed into the office, which was no more excessively furnished than the rest of the offices. A few filing cabinets stood at the back, and the desk was made of oak, but besides that, it was surprisingly sparse. No computer either, which was a surprise.

Pyrrha didn’t see the man until after she took in the office though. Finally though, she set eyes on the man who had dragged them all the way here into his own private facilities. The man who had a finger in every pie in Chicago, the Earth equivalent of Roman Torchwick, if Murphy was to be believed. A man who could easily employ a woman with enough power to kill a Grimm with a single well-placed throw.

John Marcone, the Baron of Chicago…

Looked more like a sports coach than a crime lord.

He was an inch under six feet, with short, salt and pepper hair, and dressed in a silver business suit. Smile lines were clear at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were a faded green, like the currency that Pyrrha had seen around Chicago. He wasn’t the most handsome man she’d seen, but he had a collected confidence about him that boosted his presence into something greater. Really, he wouldn’t have looked out of place among Beacon’s staff.

Except, that is, for those same faded green eyes. Pyrrha could see something lurking beneath those eyes, an almost animal cunning that she’d seen on only a handful of people before. Criminals mostly, but some Hunters and Huntresses at the school had the look too. Her teammate Ren was one, as were some of the transfer students from Atlas. So was… Ruby, actually, come to think of it. The young girl just hid it behind an adorable screen of innocence.

Marcone made no effort to hide it, letting it show for anyone who dared to meet his eyes. Pyrrha straightened her shoulders reflexively, and didn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down. Showing weakness in front of a predator was far more dangerous than bull-headed courage.

His lips twitched, and his eyes flashed back to Harry. “Mr. Dresden, a pleasure to see you again.” He said in a slow, precise tone. 

“I’d say the same, but lying to someone’s face is just so rude, you know?” Harry grinned, “And you know how I am about minding my manners, Marcone.”

Marcone leaned back in his chair, his face a mask, “Indeed. Please, take a seat.”

“Thanks, but I’d prefer standing during your exposition” Harry said. “What’s the big idea on threatening me and my friends into coming here, John?”

Marcone raised a brow, “Threaten you? I did no such thing, Dresden.”

“Gard nearly shot Murphy, and almost blew off her arm,” Harry gestured at Pyrrha, but didn’t name her. Pyrrha decided that unless directly asked, she wouldn’t introduce herself, either. 

Marcone peered past Harry towards the door for a moment, and folded his hands into a steeple. “I see. I feel I must apologize for my employee’s behavior then, Dresden, as it was never my intention to threaten you into coming here. Rest assured that I shall have a serious talk with  Ms. Gard about her actions towards you and your guests. Does that satisfy your bruised ego?”

“Hardly,” Harry said, “But you obviously need something, and I’d like to hear it before I tell you no.”

“Of course,” Marcone reached under his desk and revealed a single manila folder. He slid it across the desk to Harry.

The tall man picked up the file without looking at Marcone, and opened it with a flick of his wrist. Pyrrha had to hide her gasp when she caught a glimpse of the folder’s content. A dozen pictures of Grimm, varying in size, species, and location, were all stored in that file. Most were shrouded in night, but a few had clearly been taken in broad daylight. All photos showed the beasts covered in blood.

Harry’s eyes widened only a fraction of an inch, but he was much better at hiding his surprise than Pyrrha was. It wasn’t enough though.

Marcone smirked. “Ah, so both of you have seen these creatures before. So Ms. Gard reported, but I wanted to see your reactions personally.”

His lips compressing into a thin line, Harry tossed the file back onto the desk, “How long, Marcone? How long have the attacks been occurring?”

“As of last night, a full week.” Marcone said. “All have been focused on less than admirable establishments within the Chicago underworld. They began in White Court territory, but a few days ago, they came after my own businesses. I have been monitoring areas of attack ever since, waiting for you to arrive on scene.”

“I have a phone,” Harry said, “You could’ve at least called and given me a heads up.”

Marcone gave him a deadpan expression, “Dresden, I hold no illusions about our relationship. At best, it is one of mutual benefits, but I am well aware of your distaste for me and my businesses. If I called asking for your help, you’d likely have accused me of scheming before hanging up. Besides, we both know you’d have stumbled onto this eventually, you always do.”

Harry half-glared at the man, but did not refute his point. Instead, he found something else to get angry over. “So what have you been doing to stop this, Marcone? You’re a cold man, but you’re not the type to sit by while your men are slaughtered.”

“Dresden, think.” Marcone said. “The well-being of my people is my number one priority, and you should be well aware of that. I have several strike teams on standby in case of an emergency, but they lack your… delicate touch, especially in preempting and tracking.”

Harry said nothing, but his staff creaked in his grip.

Marcone took that as a sign to continue, “I am aware that this is asking much from you, Dresden, but I’d be willing to propose a temporary alliance until-“

“Fine, deal,” Harry interrupted.

That seemed to take Marcone off guard. His eyebrows rose half an inch, which was likely as expressive as he would get. Murphy summed his reaction up in words. “Harry, are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am.” Harry said. “I’ve seen what these things are, and I know what they’ll do. If they’re appearing all over Chicago, then we need to find the hole they’re leaking through, and plug it up tight before we’ve got a flood on our hands. Because once they’re done with Marcone, they’ll be coming for innocent people next.”

Marcone smiled, faintly, and leaned forward, “Then I take it we have a deal, Dresden?”

Harry glared at him. “We have an understanding. I’m going to investigate these attacks, I’m going to stop these attacks, and your people will stay the hell out of my way unless I ask for their help explicitly. If you don’t like it, then tough. Shit.”

Marcone chuckled, “Oh no, I understand your terms Dresden, and I find them quite reasonable. You shall have my willing cooperation in this endeavor. In fact, your car is waiting for you outside the building, with a list of previously attacked locations provided for you on the dashboard.”

“Wait, how’d you get my car here?” Harry demanded.

“I feel you don’t want to know the answer to that,” Marcone replied, leaning back in his chair. “And for the moment, we have nothing more to discuss, Dresden. Should anything come up though, you and Ms. Murphy both know how to reach me..”

Harry grumbled at Marcone, and began to stomp out of the room, “Come on you two. We’ve got work to do.”

Pyrrha quickly moved after him, while Murphy stayed behind for a moment and gave Marcone her own glare. “If this turns out to be some sort of elaborate setup Marcone, we’re coming after you. Is that clear?”

The crime boss smiled at her, “Crystal, Ms. Murphy.”

“Good.” She nodded and followed the others out.

There were no escorts on the way out. They were able to leave unmolested, and casually passed by the guards in the hall, who were talking with a red haired man in a crisp white business suit.

“Sir, you’ll need to wait until Mr. Marcone is ready.” One of the guards told him calmly.

The man poked him with his cane, “And I’m telling you that time is not something I have in abundance. If your boss wants to see my product, he’ll need to make time, do I make myself clear?”

Pyrrha stopped at the office exit and looked back at the altercation. Something about the man, his voice, his hair, and even his outfit seemed familiar. She could’ve sworn she saw him somewhere before, but…

“Pyrrha?”

Harry shook her shoulder, and she blinked, “Huh?”

“You weren’t moving, you okay?”

He wore a look of concern on his face. Pyrrha looked from him back down the hall. The red-headed man was being lead into Marcone’s office, and his demeanor had quickly switched, from irritated jerk, to personable nice guy. Pyrrha shook her head.

“I’m fine. I thought I recognized that man, but perhaps I’m just feeling homesick.”

Harry nodded, “Right. Don’t worry kiddo, we’ll get you home. I promise.”

They left the hotel behind (Murphy said it used to be called the Madison before Marcone got his mitts on it) and found the Blue Beetle Mk. II parked along the curb where the limo had once been. It had a neat smooth shine of sky blue paint, and had a very retro look to it that Pyrrha found endearing, if not exactly interesting. Save for the colossal dent in the hood, it was in remarkable shape as well.

“Less than a week and you’ve already wrecked it,” Murphy sighed.

Harry walked around the front, and tapped the car’s hood. It popped open with a noticeable groan of effort, “Hey, don’t judge. Car-fu requires great personal sacrifice.”

Pyrrha winced, “I’m sorry. I can fix it right now, it’s the least I can do.”

“No, no,” Harry waved it off, “Just get in and we’ll be on our way after I make a quick phone call.”

With that said, he marched off to… A pay-phone. Pyrrha blinked in surprise. “You still use those?”

“Not generally, no,” Murphy shook her head, “But Harry doesn’t have much choice. It’s a wizard’s curse, he can’t really use advanced tech like cell phones or newer cars without them breaking down. Marcone probably had the phone installed just in case Harry came swinging by.”

Pyrrha glanced up at the building. Even though most of its windows were blocked by curtains, she couldn’t help but get a feeling that she was still be watching by Marcone. It made her skin crawl, and she shuddered involuntarily.

“He’s an… interesting man, Marcone.”

“One way to describe him,” Murphy agreed.

Pyrrha frowned at the tone in her voice. “He’s not a good man though, either.”

Murphy inclined her head, “Again, one way to describe him. Marcone is complex. On the one hand, he pretty much runs all the crime in Chicago, and removes obstacles in his path without a second thought. On the other hand, he pretty much runs all the crime in Chicago and removes obstacles in his path. The alternative is unorganized crime and a dozen gangs all working for control over the city. The CPD is perfectly happy to leave Marcone in charge, as long as he keeps collateral damage to a minimum. Also, the man does have a few standards.” she added grudgingly.

“That…” Pyrrha searched for a way to describe such an arrangement. She found one fast, “Is very… I’d say clever, but it really only seems to put the problem off, doesn’t it?”

“Marcone will live for a long time,” Murphy replied. “If he goes, it’ll be Father Time that gets him. That’s at least a few decades of manageable crime at least.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to make sure the crime doesn’t exist at all?” Pyrrha asked.

Murphy chuckled bitterly at that, and looked at Pyrrha with the expression an adult would wear when trying not to crush a child’s dream, “Pyrrha, sweetie, that’s a nice sentiment, but-“

Harry cursed at the phone, and slammed it back on its receiver before marching back to the two women. Murphy sighed at the interruption and turned back to him. “Any luck?”

“No, he wouldn’t pick up his stupid phone,” Harry grumbled, fuming all the way to driver side door. “So now we have to drive all the way down to his stupid apartment to check on his stupid ass and make sure his stupid face didn’t get mauled by a stupid Grimm. Stupidly.”

Pyrrha blinked, “Um, and…who is this?”

“Thomas, a friend,” Murphy said. She opened the Beetle’s door and got in, slinking into the back seat. She was the shortest of their group, and could fit in the back comfortably. Pyrrha thanked her, and slid into the passenger seat.

Harry started the car up, still grumbling to himself. Pyrrha bit her lip, debated on asking more about this Thomas character, and decided against it for now. There were other questions to be asked. An important one, actually.

“Harry?” she asked.

The wizard took a deep breath, and exhaled, “Yes?”

“Earlier you said you wanted to talk. What about, exactly?”

His sour mood faded to be replaced with reluctance, “Ah… Yes, that.”

“Yes, that,” Pyrrha agreed. 

They pulled out from the curb and began driving. Harry drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, silently thinking on how best to phrase this without causing Pyrrha’s mind to shatter again.

“Remember how, before Murph showed up, I was drilling you on what might have sent you to our world?”

A sharp pain in her temples made Pyrrha flinch. She clenched an eye shut and rubbed at her skull, “Yes, I do remember that.”

Harry nodded slowly, “Right. Well, it didn’t occur to me at the time, but when we were in the alley, and those… Grimm, attacked us, I Saw you before I…” he swallowed and his face went pale.

Murphy reached up from behind him and took his free hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the top of it. Harry glanced back at her and smiled his thanks. She returned it, and gestured for him to continue.

“I Saw you,” he repeated.

Pyrrha sucked in a breath. According to Murphy, the Sight let him see things as they really were. If he had Seen her, that meant he saw her for what she truly was, and whatever that may imply. The thought, now that she was thinking on it, was actually rather scary. Harry knew more about her on a very intimate level, starting with their Soulgaze, and now seeing her ‘true’ form, for lack of a better term. 

What he might have seen made her nervous, to say the least. But she also had to know, because obviously what he had seen was very shocking. So she asked the obvious question.

“What did you see?”

Harry looked at her, “I saw you, as you are. Using the Sight, you look almost identical to how you are now, just… Dressed different.”

He looked back out the window, “And… touched, by Black Magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies, I kinda forgot to update the story. Here is the next chapter, enjoy.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

“Harry, I’m sorry, but I have a very sketchy understanding of normal magic, let alone the difference between it and Black Magic.” Pyrrha said.

Harry winced, “Right, sorry. I was feeling a bit needlessly dramatic. Let me explain.”

Pyrrha sat back in her seat, notebook in hand. Harry paused, and Murphy poked her head between the seats, blinking in surprise. “Um…notebook?”

“Found it under the passenger seat,” Pyrrha explained, and smiled. “Please, continue.”

Murphy and Harry exchanged a brief look. “Right. Well, the difference is a pretty big one. First you have to understand that human magic comes from the same source, namely, life; it’s essentially life energy in a malleable form.” 

“So it’s similar to an Aura, or Semblance in a way,” Pyrrha said.

Harry frowned, then nodded, “Basically. But magic has all kinds of different flavors. That’s where Black Magic comes in. To give you the short version, Pyrrha, there are Seven Laws of Magic that must be abided by. The White Council enforces them, and anyone that breaks them is using Black Magic.”

“But what  _ is _ it?” Pyrrha asked.

“It’s…” Harry sighed. “It’s basically crime magic. To use magic, it requires you to truly believe in whatever spell you’re casting. Otherwise, it’ll either be significantly weaker, or simply not exist. If you kill someone with magic, if you mess with their mind, if you try to use it to bring back the dead, it’s all Black Magic. Now take that into consideration what kind of mindset a person would need to use magic that way, and you have yourself a Warlock.”

Pyrrha’s eyes went wide, “Oh... Oh dear. It’s not just breaking a law is it? It’s… It’s just… wrong.”

“Exactly. It goes against the very nature of magic, twists and corrupts it and the user both. If the caster isn’t found in time, their mind is warped until they become a Warlock, someone who uses Black Magic without hesitation for the simplest reasons” 

Harry sighed, “Which is why the White Council has an almost zero tolerance policy when it comes to violators of the laws.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips. From Harry’s tone, it sounded like he had personal experience with the Council’s zero-tolerance policy. She debated asking him to elaborate, but one look at the stern, faraway expression face put that idea on ice. 

The real question though, the one that Pyrrha kept dancing around, was what exactly had happened to her. Harry told her, but he hadn’t  _ told  _ her. Not yet. That scared her more than anything else.

She swallowed and set the notebook down. The Blue Beetle bumped across a pothole, jostling Pyrrha in her seat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “What… Magic was used on me, Harry?”

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She saw a look of pity in them, a sad sense of empathy for her. Her lips tightened into a firm line. “Harry, please. I need to know.”

“Psychomancy.”

Pyrrha blinked, “Um…what?”

“Magic of the mind,” Harry explained, “Psychomancy. Someone has used magic to mess with your memories. That’s why, when I was quizzing you earlier today, you had a panic attack when you tried to remember everything. The spell cast on you won’t let you remember what happened. Not yet anyway.”

Something tightened in Pyrrha’s chest. She kept turned back to the window, watching the Chicago streets roll by, but her grip on the notebook tightened until her knuckles turned white. “O-oh. So it’s… temporary?”

“All Psychomancy is temporary to a degree. The human mind doesn’t like to be messed with, and it’ll try to repair itself. For some this can take a few days or weeks, depending on the spells complexity. For others though…”

He awkwardly let the unsaid thought hang in the air. Pyrrha knew what he was implying, and tore her eyes from the window to look at him. “You can fix it, right?”

The Beetle came to a stop at a red light. Harry released the steering wheel and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Much as I’d like to, I can’t, Pyrrha. Psychomancy is forbidden, and what little of it I do know would cause far more harm than good. Plus, we don’t know how bad those memories are. I’ve seen people use it to help others, even if the results were pretty bad.”

“They’re my memories, my mind.” Pyrrha said. “I don’t care how bad they might be, I have a right to know what they are.”

“Not arguing with you, that’s your decision to make. I’m just not the guy to do it.”

Murphy, who had been exceptionally quiet during this time, spoke up. “You’re going to call her in?”

Harry winced. “No. Not yet. She’s… very busy nowadays. I’ll take her to Edinburgh when we have the time. Rashid should be able to remove the blocks.”

Murphy sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Edinburgh… Are you sure Harry? You and the Council aren’t exactly on good terms.”

The light turned green, and the Beetle jerked forward. Pyrrha steadied herself and raised her hand like she was in class. “Excuse me, but what is Edinburgh? I don’t know any of the landmarks on your world.”

“City across the ocean.” Harry said. “The White Council headquarters is located there, and Rashid is a member of the Senior Council. He is also the wizard with the most experience in Psychomancy on the Council. He should be able to help.”

Murphy tapped the back of Harry’s chair. The tall man grunted. “And if he can’t, I have a friend who’s pretty much a full blown expert on it. She’s just been occupied lately. Getting to Rashid will be easier.”

“Assuming the Council lets you into Edinburgh at all.” Murphy grumbled. There was a bitterness in her voice that Pyrrha had heard a handful of times.

She turned around in her seat until she was facing Murphy, and asked, “What happened between Harry and the Council?”

Murphy closed her eyes tight. Harry sighed from the driver’s seat. “Really complicated Pyrrha. To keep it simple, I was out of commission for a while and the Council thought they were rid of me forever. When I came back, a lot of them were… upset.”

“Oh.” Pyrrha bit her bottom lip, “Does that mean they won’t help us?”

“Rashid will,” Harry assured her. “It just depends on whether or not he’ll be there.”

Pyrrha nodded. She felt herself shaking, and focused on stopping it. This wasn’t right. The ability to just… remove her memories, to block a part of her own mind off with a simple uttering of words was just wrong. Not only on a moral level, but on an uncomfortably intimate level. She felt violated. She felt sick, and her whole world felt like it was shaking.

Murphy made a nervous noise, “Um, Harry, is your car shaking?”

Harry glanced around the Bug. The chassis was trembling and warping for no apparent reason, creaking ominously under an invisible strain. His mind went back to the kitchen, what happened when Pyrrha had tried to recall her memories.

“Pyrrha!”

She snapped her eyes up to Harry, and the trembling stopped. “Huh? Sorry, what did you say?”

Harry looked around his car once, and satisfied it was no longer at risk of implosion, gave Pyrrha a stern look. “Is this going to be a recurring problem?”

“Is what going to be a problem?”

Harry gestured at the car, “You… wigging out and losing control of your powers. You almost crushed the car while we were driving.”

A look of shock and horror swept across Pyrrha’s face, “W-what?!”

That couldn’t be right. Pyrrha had excellent control over her powers, and even if she was stressed she wouldn’t accidentally crush their car. Well, except she’d shown earlier that very day that wasn’t the case. When Harry had questioned her, Pyrrha’s panic attack had nearly impaled him with every sliver of metal in the kitchen. Her control over her Semblance was far from perfect, and they both knew it.

She covered her face, “Oh…oh no. I’m so sorry Harry.”

Harry’s lips tightened and he nodded slowly, “I know you are Pyrrha. But sorry isn’t going to be enough. I hate to say this, but if you really have that hard of a time with your powers, we should leave you at the apartment. You could hurt yourself, us, or someone around us.”

Pyrrha started taking deep breaths to calm herself. The storm of emotions brewing inside her didn’t vanish, but she felt more in control of them. She looked at Harry, “I can control my Semblance Harry. I will control it. I swear I won’t harm you or anyone close to you. I promise.”

His eyes till on the road, Harry nodded, “Fine. But if I think things are going to get intense, or if you feel like you’re going to have a… panic attack, tell me and find a quiet spot, something. Remember, Murph and I don’t have an Aura to protect us. No one does. If you lose it, I think you can imagine the gruesome details.”

Pyrrha nodded, “Of course. I’m sorry it took me this long to…acknowledge the problem.”

Harry grunted, “Long as we keep it from killing any of us, I’ll be content.”

There wasn’t any real way to respond to that. So Pyrrha folded her hands in her lap and looked out the window again. Awkward silence was a very close companion for the rest of the journey.

They finally arrived at what Harry called the ‘Gold Coast Area’ a few minutes later. According to him and Murphy, it was where Chicago’s Elite were most likely to live, and as a result, it was a very clean and pristine neighborhood. Pyrrha almost felt at home seeing the fancy buildings and general cleanliness of the neighborhood. 

Before she moved to Beacon, her fame and sponsorships had won her and her mother quite a few variety of options to live. One such place had been among the upper class in Mistral. It was short lived, of course, but the familiarity was comforting to her. 

They parked in front of several apartment complexes, and exited the Blue Beetle. Pyrrha readjusted her tiara, and looked up at the buildings, “So, this is where your friend lives?”

“Cabrini Green Housing Complex,” Harry said. He pulled his staff out from the car and shut the door. “Not where Thomas lives. He’s across the street.”

Pyrrha looked across the street. A low slung apartment was directly across from them. It had that ‘modern’ look that made its actual age hard to measure. If Pyrrha had to guess, the building could’ve been anywhere from several decades old, to only a handful of years. A small parking garage sunk into the ground beside it, probably where tenants could park.

“It’s very nice,” Pyrrha noted. 

“Don’t tell Thomas that,” Harry grumbled. “His head’s big enough as is. Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

Pyrrha tapped her fingers together, “Er, right. Of course!” and followed Harry.

The three of them crossed the street to the apartment and stopped at a row of intercoms outside the entrance. Harry tried one, but his friend didn’t answer. He frowned, and they walked inside. They quickly passed through the lobby (the woman in charge glared at Harry the entire way) and took an elevator to the floor Thomas was on. The hall was as crisp and modern as the outside of the building, and Harry lead them to one of the apartments. 

He knocked three times, probably harder than he should’ve, and yelled, “Thomas, open up! It’s Harry!”

Instantly, there was a ruckus from inside the apartment, something solid thumping on the ground. Muffled voices could be heard, followed by footsteps. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and started silently cursing. Pyrrha folded her hands behind her back and made sure she looked decent. She was still dressed in the rags of her old outfit, but the sweater hid most of it. She wouldn’t break any laws, anyway.

Beside her, Murphy was frowning in thought, looking from the door to to Pyrrha in back again. The short woman’s eyes shot open, “Shit, Harry!” 

“What?”

Whatever Murphy had been about to say were cut off when the door opened, and… And suddenly, nothing else in the world mattered. 

Thomas was about the same height as Pyrrha, maybe slightly taller, and he was…Gorgeous. 

Six feet of pure, holy beauty, he was a living statue carved from marble. His eyes were an intense blue-gray, flecked with a stunning silver that shimmered under the light. His hair was a deep luxurious black that fell to his shoulders, his face pure perfection. He wore only a pair of black slacks that loosely hung from his hips, exposing his torso to the air. Pyrrha unashamedly ate up the sight of this man with no regards for common decency.

It was odd too, because Pyrrha had seen other men with similar physiques. But there was something… Striking about Thomas, an allure to him. He had a confidence, a posture that radiated… so many things that made Pyrrha tremble with excitement. 

His eyes flicked to her once, and she felt herself drowning in those eyes. A pair of familiar blue eyes flashed in her mind, another smile, less manly, more goofy, a remarkably plain face under a mop of blonde hair. The world tilted for a moment...

Something hit Pyrrha’s back, her mind felt fuzzy, clouded, before the world came back into sharp focus.  She was collapsed against a wall, and the back of her head hurt. Murphy was kneeling in front of her, snapping her fingers in front of her eyes and saying something.

Pyrrha focused to clear away the blur and faraway ringing, to understand the shorter woman’s words. “Pyrrha? Pyrrha, are you ok?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” is what Pyrrha tried to say, but settled for nodding, when no words came out from her dry mouth.

She shook her head once and blinked, “I-I mean…y-yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

Murphy sighed in relief, her hand squeezing Pyrrha’s shoulder, “Oh thank god.” 

She then turned her best death glare at Harry, who was glaring at Thomas, who still looked good enough to eat. Only less so, somehow, as if he became smaller, more human, less godlike. Pyrrha closed her eyes and spent a moment gathering her senses while they quietly argued.

“What the hell was that, Thomas!?”

“You were the one that brought a pretty young virgin with no warning Harry. What did you expect to happen?”

Pyrrha trembled at Thomas’s voice. Even with the underlying fury and shame, it was sending shivers all along her being, making her want to curl up and wrap herself into that voice 

“I didn’t expect you to hit her with a full blast of the ‘come hither’ when you opened the door!” Harry growled.

Thomas glared at the wizard, his answer a low hiss, “Well, you caught me at an… awkward time, Harry.”

The two men started to argue, while Pyrrha felt something fuzzy get shoved into her eyes. She opened her eyes and saw Murphy handing her the sweater she’d been wearing. Pyrrha glanced down at herself and blushed. Several buttons on her blouse had been undone, and she was… very excited. Her heart was hammering against her ribs rapid fire. 

“Get yourself cleaned up, and wait by the elevator.” Murphy ordered. Her features were surprisingly gentle. Pyrrha hid her burning face and grunted a noise of agreement. Without another word she got up and rushed down the hall before Thomas’s presence made her do something even more stupid and reckless.

The moment Pyrrha was out of sight, Murphy spun on her heel, went on tiptoes, and her slapped Harry hard, kept going and gave Thomas a swat as well 

Harry rubbed his cheek, “Okay, yeah, I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did,” Murphy said, her gaze fixed at Thomas while she said it.

Thomas sighed, relaxed, and bowed his head, “Sorry Karrin. You guys really did catch us at a bad time.”

“Us?”

The man jerked his head inside, “Justine. And a guest. We were… busy.”

“Which is why you wouldn’t pick up your phone,” Harry rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Damn it, I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Thomas crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “So, what gives?”

Harry sighed and waved a hand in the air. “Marcone just dragged me into his office and saddled me with a case. Turns out a bunch of monsters from another dimension are running amok ruining his and Lara’s businesses by killing everyone that works there. And if we don’t figure out how to stop them, innocent people will start dying next.”

“So, business as usual then?”

“Seems like it.” Harry said.

Thomas nodded and frowned. “So you came here to ask if I had heard anything about the attacks, and, barring that, wanted me to play tag-a-long when you went to go interrogate my sister?”

“Pretty much.”

Thomas stepped away from the door frame, back into the apartment, “Right then, give me a few minutes to get my stuff together. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

They departed, leaving Thomas to his preparations while looking for Pyrrha. She was waiting by the elevator, her face still glowing hot.

“I didn’t mean to react like that,” she said, before Harry could get a word in. “There was just… something about him. I saw him and everything else just…”

Pyrrha wrung her hands and made a strangled sound. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but ever since I got here, everything just keeps blind siding me and I’m… I’m not this weak, I swear!”

Murphy sent Harry a glare before leaning against the wall next to Pyrrha. “Not your fault, Pyrrha. The supernatural world is full of twists and turns that no one can prepare for. And even when you do prepare for it, sometimes you forget the little details. What happened just now though? That was on us.”

Pyrrha glanced up at Murphy. Her face was still burning scarlet, but at least she hadn’t broken into tears. That was a start.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Murphy said. “Thomas isn’t really human. He’s a vampire of the White Court.”

“You’re friends with a…vampire?” Pyrrha raised an eyebrow.

Harry leaned against the wall opposite the girls, “Yeah. He’s not your typical blood sucking fiend. White Court vampires feed off human emotion. Fear, anger… lust.”

Pyrrha’s blush returned, her voice small and hesitant, “Ah… so that was… normal?”

“I don’t think there’s a woman alive who doesn’t feel something when Thomas is around,” Murphy said. “A surprising number of men too.”

Both Harry and Murphy looked serious. So Pyrrha straightened up a little and took a deep breath, “Ah. Well then I suppose there’s nothing to be ashamed of, is there? I was afraid I’d lost control of myself for a moment.”

Harry chuckled, “No, you’re fine. Just try not to stare into his eyes, and think clean thoughts, and you should be able to resist the whole ‘come hither’ aura he puts off.”

“Or I could just exercise more control,” Thomas said. Everyone jumped, and the vampire smirked. He wore those same black slacks, and a pair of expensive loafers. A white button down shirt covered his chest, and he wore a black jacket over it. He seemed unarmed, but Pyrrha’s eyes noticed the slight bulge of a holstered weapon under the jacket. Her Semblance told her he had a sword hidden in there as well..

“Damn it Thomas, don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on a Wizard?” Harry demanded.

Thomas crossed his arms and smirked, “Whatever. We about ready to head out?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Nodding at that, Thomas extended a hand to Pyrrha. “Sorry about that incident. You caught me at an awkward time Miss… Pyrrha, is it?”

Pyrrha looked from his hand to his face. The silver flecks in his eyes were gone, leaving them a stormy gray. His entire being, in fact, had seemed to change. While he was certainly handsome, he didn’t end all thought processes in her mind when she looked at him. So, Pyrrha reached out for his hand.

“It’s Pyrrha Nikos, yes.” She said as she took his hand, only for him to hiss in pain and snatch it immediately away, as blisters erupted where her skin touched his.

Pyrrha’s eyes widened in horror, “Oh no! I didn’t-what-how- I’m sorry!”

Thomas, still gritting his teeth, focused on his hand, taking deep breaths. Where Pyrrha had gripped his hand, the flesh was blackened and deformed, like melted plastic. Even more disturbing, Pyrrha could see his flesh actually  _ boiling  _ as it started to pull itself back together. She felt queasy just looking at it.

Thomas glared at Harry while his hand reassembled itself. “So not only is she a virgin, but she’s protected by an act of true love. Thanks for warning me, Harry.”

“How should I have known, Thomas? Seriously, you know I wouldn’t do this to you deliberately!.” Harry’s voice was hurt. Pyrrha raised a brow at the tone.

“Damn it, Harry. Just like you to pick up a classic damsel in distress,” Thomas winced again and shoved his hand into his coat. “Apparently, Ms. Nikos has a  _ very  _ strong relationship with someone, somewhere.”

All eyes turned to Pyrrha. More blushing ensued, and she brushed some hair out of her eyes, “Oh… I don’t really know if… Well, I do have a close friend on my team, our captain really, but we’ve… Never really done anything… it’s not… I mean...”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Murphy interrupted with a warm smile, to Pyrrha’s immense relief. “Point is, that connection protects you from the White Court, kinda; it’s not a complete immunity, but it gives you a chance at fighting back, getting out from under the influence .”

Pyrrha’s mind was racing at the implications. She cared for Jaune, she’d even been with him at the dance, but their relationship had been in a gray area last she could remember. She would most certainly like to spend more time with that awkward, nerdy, kind, caring, and handsome dork, but they hadn’t had time to really talk about it, what with the tournament and all. Now she really couldn’t talk to him about it…

But if what Murphy and Thomas said had any lick of truth, then maybe they were meant to be. The thought made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She definitely had an even greater motivation to get home as soon as possible.

“I hate to interrupt, but,” Harry’s subdued voice shook her from her daydreaming. “We need to get moving. We’ve spent a lot of time dawdling, and I’d rather get to the Raith mansion before sundown.”

Thomas held up a pair of keys and grinned, “I’m driving.”

***

They didn’t take Harry’s Beetle when they left, opting for Thomas’s car instead. Unlike Harry, he drove a colossal boxy white vehicle called a Hummer. In Pyrrha’s opinion, it was much nicer than the Beetle. Even though she had to sit in the back seat, there was a lot more legroom when compared to the Beetle. She was content with it.

They drove along the freeway for some time, leaving Chicago behind them. According to Harry, Lara Raith (Who was, apparently, Thomas’s older sister) had a mansion just outside of Chicago along the big lake they called Lake Michigan. The creativity of this world never failed to underwhelm Pyrrha. Though perhaps she shouldn’t be too judgmental, after all, one of her friends was literally named after a fancy rock. 

While they drove, Harry filled Thomas in on what he’d missed. Him rescuing Pyrrha, the Grimm, and what exactly was at stake if things took a nosedive in the next few days. Thomas, surprisingly, took it all in stride. He seemed to have experience with things like this.

“So, if I’m understanding this right,” he said, when Harry finished explaining, “is that, we have an army of monsters pouring into Chicago, the things feed off negative emotions, are seemingly endless in number, killing the crime families in charge of Chicago, and you’ve been hired to deal with them. Oh, and we have a girl from the same dimension who was training for a day job in slaying said monsters. Say, you haven’t been binge-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, have you?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds absolutely stupid,” Harry deadpanned.

Thomas chuckled, “Well, it wouldn’t be you if it wasn’t absolutely insane. Though, this brings up a pretty big question.”

“And that’d be?”

Pyrrha felt, rather than saw, Thomas’s eyes on her. “Is Ms. Nikos an Outsider, if she’s not from here?”

She blinked and looked at Murphy, “What’s an Outsider?” she whispered.

“Evil magic-immune eldritch abominations, who want to wipe out the planet. Basically like the Grimm’s meaner, vastly more powerful older brother.”

Pyrrha gulped at that. “Well that’s… not good.”

Harry’s voice was loud from up front, addressing everyone, “I don’t think Pyrrha counts as an Outsider. Neither do the Grimm. I think how it works is that, we have individual worlds in their own… bubble, I guess you could call it, or a sphere of influence. Each one has its own worlds and people that obey that worlds laws of reality. The Nevernever is basically the border zone between us and the emptiness between worlds. Which is where he Outsiders live. They’ve just decided our world is the tastiest or easiest to take a bite out of.”

“There’s a comforting thought.” Thomas deadpanned. 

Harry shrugged, “You asked, man.”

“So what happens if these Grimm do wipe out the crime families? Other than Lara and Marcone being annoyed at the loss of profit.”

Harry jerked a thumb at Pyrrha, “Ask her. She’s our resident Grimm expert, I’m just parroting what she’s told me.”

“Okay,” Thomas looked at her in his rear view mirror. Pyrrha was in the third row seat with Murphy, by Thomas’s request. If she was too close, a strand of her hair might touch him, and while he wasn’t in a ‘feeding mood’ anymore, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“So, what’s the worst that could happen, Ms. Nikos?” he repeated.

Pyrrha felt the faint smile on her face fade. “If they break through in numbers, it will be a massacre. You have no Hunters to defend your world. They will roll over Chicago in an endless tide of death and destruction until every human flees or is consumed. They won’t stop and they won’t rest until humanity is wiped from the planet.”

Silence reigned. Thomas slowly nodded and returned his eyes to the road. When he spoke, his voice was more solemn. “Well, that does sound bad.”

“Yes. Very.”

“Talk about motivation.” Thomas muttered, then smiled bitterly at Harry. “Perhaps that would give the Wardens and the Council extra motivation to actually do something useful.”

“It’s not our first rodeo with extra-dimensional threats.” Harry admitted. “And if the Council won’t do anything, there’s always the Winter Courts. I can’t imagine they’d  _ ever  _ let something like that happen.”

“Then why hasn’t Mab contacted you?” Thomas asked.

Harry shrugged, “Our relationship is...complicated.”

“Harry,” Murphy said, “The last time we faced an interdimensional threat, Mab had spent several months with you in physical therapy just so she could throw you at the problem. If she knew about this, she’d have said something.”

“Assuming she  _ can  _ tell me anything.” Harry said, his tone dark.

The drive fell silent at that. Pyrrha had no idea who this ‘Mab’ was, but made a mental note to question Harry about it later. Obviously she was a big player of some kind, the entire car cabin had grown eerily silent after she was brought up. Pyrrha wasn’t sure why, but she had an eery feeling that there was more at work here than a simple Grimm incursion. The thought made her shiver, and she returned her attention to the window. 

They cruised next to Lake Michigan, the vibrant colors and hues of the sun reflecting off the lake were a stark contrast to the sour mood that had overwhelmed the hummer. Pyrrha hated being overly negative, but when it came to the Grimm, there was no sugarcoating it. Maybe there were others that could stop the Grimm from overwhelming this world, but lives would still be at stake. Nipping this problem at the bud was still the best course of action to take.

That was why they were going to Lara’s, to gather any information that Marcone didn’t give them, and find a possible source to the Grimm incursions. The list of locations Marcone had left in the Beetle was a start, but Lara had more experience with the Grimm and thus would have more intel for them.

All of that said, the Raith estate was… something else.

They arrived mid-afternoon and Pyrrha thought they had parked in front of an old castle from the days before Dust had become widely available to the people of Remnant. It was several stories tall, with many wings branching from the base and a few faux-castle turrets. Cornices and gargoyles dotted the estates façade, and a grand stone wall lined with barbed wire and security cameras surrounded it. 

Perhaps a ‘neo-castle’ would’ve been more appropriate. Pyrrha looked at the building in surprise, “Wow, it’s nearly as big as the Beacon.”

“Um, thanks?” Thomas said. They rolled to a stop on the street in front of the towering estate. The entrance was plainly visible, guarded by an iron gate with a security checkpoint.

“It was the academy she trained at,” Harry explained while grabbing his gear.

“Ah.”

The two men started to get out. Pyrrha did the same, but Harry stopped her with a look. “Stay out here Pyrrha. I’d rather not let Lara learn about your presence if we can avoid it. Plus, given your reaction to Thomas…”

Pyrrha fell back into her seat, “Ah. I understand. Wait out here then?”

Harry nodded, “Yep. Shouldn’t take more than ten or fifteen minutes. But, Murphy, if we’re not back in thirty minutes, I want you to leave and get back up.”

“Right.” Murphy clambered into the front seat. Thomas tossed her the keys and she caught them without looking using her good arm. “Good luck Harry. And be careful.”

He shot her a lazy smile, “Hey, come on, it’s me.”

With that, he shut the door and the two men walked down the driveway towards the Raith Estate, leaving Murphy and Pyrrha alone in the Hummer. After a minute of silence, Murphy said, “So, got any good stories?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have forgotten to update these past few days. Sorry, hope you like the chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So I'm new here, but this story is one I've been working on for a while. I have about twenty chapters posted on FF.net, Spacebattles, and Sufficent Velocity. On this site, I'll be posting a new chapter every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, until its caught up with my current load. If no one wants to wait, I'll leave a link to SB, as that version of the story has been heavily edited.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed the opening, let me know what you thought. And if anyone has questions, I'll be lurking in the corner, waiting to answer them. See ya!
> 
> https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/remnant-rwby-dresden-files.409894/


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